Read the following passage and questions, then choose the right answer from options, the answer should be one of A, B, C, D.

<passage>:
Pied Piper of Mars By FREDERIC ARNOLD KUMMER, Jr. Elath Taen made mad music for the men of Mars. The red planet lived and would die to the soul-tearing tunes of his fiendish piping. [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from In all the solar system there is no city quite like Mercis, capital of Mars. Solis, on Venus, is perhaps more beautiful, some cities of Earth certainly have more drive and dynamitism, but there is a strange inscrutable air about Mercis which even terrestials of twenty years' residence cannot explain. Outwardly a tourists' mecca, with white plastoid buildings, rich gardens, and whispering canals, it has another and darker side, ever present, ever hidden. While earthmen work and plan, building, repairing, bringing their vast energy and progress to decadent Mars, the silent little reddies go their devious ways, following ancient laws which no amount of terrestial logic can shake. Time-bound ritual, mysterious passions and hates, torturous, devious logic ... all these, like dark winding underground streams run beneath of the terrestial tourists. Steve Ranson, mounting the steps of the old house facing the Han canal, was in no mood for the bizarre beauties of Martian scenery. For one thing, Mercis was an old story to him his work with Terrestial Intelligence had brought him here often in the past, on other strange cases. And for another thing, his mission concerned more vital matters. Jared Haller, as head of the state-owned Martian Broadcasting System, was next in importance to the august Governor Winship himself. As far back as the Hitlerian wars on earth it had been known that he who controls propaganda, controls the nation ... or planet. Martian Broadcasting was an important factor in controlling the fierce warlike little reddies, keeping the terrestial-imposed peace on the red planet. And when Jared Haller sent to Earth for one of the Terrestial Intelligence, that silent efficient corps of trouble-shooters, something was definitely up. Ranson passed the conventional electric eye and a polite robot voice A smiling little Martian butler met him in the hall, showed him into "You sent to Earth a while ago for an operator?" Mars ... but Haller was one of the few persons sufficiently important to have an operator sent without explanation as to why he was wanted. silence. It worked. "Mr. Ranson," Haller leaned forward, his face a gray grim mask, "someone, something, is working to gain control of the Martian Broadcasting Company! And I don't have to tell you that whoever controls M.B.C. controls Mars! Here's the set-up! Our company, although state owned, is largely free from red-tape, so long as we stress the good work we terrestials are doing on Mars and keep any revolutionary propaganda off the air-waves. Except for myself, and half a dozen other earthmen in responsible positions, our staff is largely Martian. That's in line with our policy of teaching Mars our civilization until it's ready for autonomy. Which it isn't yet, by quite some. As you know." Ranson nodded, eyes intent as the pattern unfolded. "All right." Haller snapped. "You see the situation. Remove us ... the few terrestials at the top of M.B.C ... and Martian staff would carry on until new men came out from Earth to take our places. But suppose during that period with no check on their activities, they started to dish out nationalist propaganda? One hour's program, with the old Martian war-songs being played and some rabble-rouser yelling 'down with the terrestial oppressors' and there'd be a revolution. Millions of reddies against a few police, a couple of regiments of the Foreign Legion. It'd be a cinch." "But," ... Ranson frowned ... "this is only an interesting supposition. The reddies are civilized, peaceful." "Outwardly," Haller snapped. "But what do you or any other earthmen know about what goes on in their round red heads? And the proof that some revolt is planned lies in what's been happening the past few week later Harris, head of the television department, went insane. Declared a feud with the whole planet, began shooting at everyone he terrorized expression on his face I've ever seen. Fear, causing the makes you think there's been foul play?" leaped from the spaceport. Familiar, homey sounds, these, but beneath It was the pipes of Pan, the chant of robots, the crying of souls in dash down, seize the invisible musician below ... but logic, facts and duty, all were fading from his mind. The music was a spur, goading him to wild unreasoning anger. The red mists of hate swirled through his raced through the house, toward the study. And then, his brain weary as if it had been cudgelled, Ranson slid limply to the floor. Headquarters of the Martian Canal-Patrol was brilliantly lighted by a dozen big astralux "Sorry." Ranson said tightly. "But it had to be done. There's hell loose on Mars, the devil's melody! And it's got to be stopped before it turns this planet upside down!" "You can't get away with this, Ranson!" Captain Maxwell shook his head. "It'll only make it tougher for you when we nab you again! Be sensible! "No good. Got to work fast." Ranson backed toward the door, gun in hand. "Let this mad music go unchecked and it's death to all terrestials on Mars! And I'm going to stop it! So long, captain! You can try me for murder if you want, after I've done my job here!" Ranson took the key from the massive plastic door as he backed city in the wan light of the moons. One in either side of the heavens, they threw weird double shadows across the rippling canals, the aimless streets. Sleek canal-cabs roared along the dark waterways, throwing up clouds of spray, and on the embankments, green-eyed, bulge-headed little reddies padded, silent, inscrutable, themselves a part of the eternal mystery of Mars. Haller's house stood dark and brooding beside the canal. Captain Maxwell's men had completed their examination and the place was tiny bits of matter left behind by the unknown. The theory behind it was quite simple. The T.I. scientists had reasoned that the sense of smell is merely the effect of suspended molecules in the air acting upon sensitive nerve filaments, and they knew that any normal human gambling dens, dives full of drunken spacehands and slim red-skinned san-rays, as they filtered through drawn windows. Unsteady figures made their way along the streets. Mighty-thewed Jovian blasters, languid Venusians, boisterous earthmen ... and the little Martians padding softly along, wrapped in their loose dust-robes. At the end of an alley where the purple shadows lay like stagnant The hallway was shadowy, its walls hung with ancient Martian tapestries Half-terrestial, half-Martian, he seemed, with the large hairless head of the red planet, and the clean features of an earthman. His eyes, behind their glasses, were like green ice, and the hand pouring the master-scientist, sought by the T.I. for years, in vain! Elath Taen, outlaw and renegade, whose sole desire was the extermination of all terrestials on Mars, a revival of the ancient glories of the red planet. The tales told about him were fabulous and this was the man men were on Mars I should have taken infinitely more precautions. However...." the same as Haller and I...."

<question>:
What would best describe the terrestrials' attitudes towards the reddies on Mars?

<options>:
A The terrestrials want to help the reddies claim their own freedom.
B The terrestrials have complete disdain for the reddies and want to completely eradicate them.
C The terrestrials want to help them be successful on Mars, so they provide motivating propaganda for them.
D The terrestrials want to control the reddies so that the terrestrials can stay in control of Mars.

<answer>:

D