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

<passage>:
educated bugs worried him then the welfare worker tried to stop the Ring Rats' feud by enlisting his aid. And now, he was a drafted the sign-post and gravely regarded the settlement. On the chart it was indicated by a fairly sizeable dot, but that was merely a matter of comparison. Out Saturn-way even the tiniest outpost assumes importance far beyond its size. The other, according to the crudely painted legend smeared above its entrance lock, was the Saturn Inn . The rest of the rock was landing field, pure and simple. Blasters had non-existent, and one who wasn't used to it had to take things easy and remember where he was. Behind him Saturn filled a tenth of the sky, a yellow, lemon-tinged ball, streaked here and there with faint crimson lines and blotched with angry, bright green patches. made up the Inner Ring, while arcing above the horizon opposed to Saturn were the spangled glistening rainbows of the other rings. "Like dewdrops in the black of space," Meek mumbled to himself. But he immediately felt ashamed of himself for growing poetic. This sector of be-whiskered roamer of the outer orbits. Meek's hair was white and stuck out in uncombed tufts in a dozen directions. His skin was pale. His blue eyes looked watery behind the thick lenses that rode his nose. dust, really, but the screen couldn't stop it all." He fumbled his hands self-consciously. "Awkward of me," he said. "It happens to the best of them," the mechanic consoled. "Saturn sweeps in clouds of the stuff. Thicker than hell when you reach the Rings. Lots of ships pull in with punctures. Won't take no time." bring in a ship without all the instruments. Must have a honey of a navigator." that ever took to space." "Really I'm not," said Meek. "I haven't done much piloting, you see. Up until just a while ago, I never had left Earth. Bookkeeper for Lunar Exports." "Bookkeeper!" yelped the mechanic. "How come a bookkeeper can handle a desk, reached out for a spacesuit that hung from a wall hook. "Afraid this job might take a while," he said. "Especially if we have to wait for parts. Have to get them in from Titan City. Why don't you go over to the Inn about. There was another sign out there. Something about educated bugs." "Oh, them," said the mechanic. "They belong to Gus Hamilton. Maybe belong ain't the right word because they were on the rock before Gus took over. Anyhow, Gus is mighty proud of them, although at times they Gus thinks maybe the rock don't even belong to the Solar system. Thinks maybe it's a hunk of stone from some other solar system. Figures maybe it crossed space somehow and was captured by Saturn, sucked into the Ring. That would explain why it's the only one that has the bugs. They come along with it, see." "This Gus Hamilton," said Meek. "I'd like to see him. Where could I come in sooner or later. Drops around regular, except when his rheumatism bothers him, to pick up a bundle of papers. Subscribes to a he reads is the sports section. Nuts about sports, Gus is." II Moe, bartender at Saturn Inn, leaned his elbow on the bar and braced his chin in an outspread palm. His face wore a melancholy, hang-dog look. Moe liked things fairly peaceable, but now he saw trouble coming "Lady," he declared mournfully, "you sure picked yourself a job. The boys around here don't take to being uplifted and improved. They ain't worth it, either. Just ring-rats, that's all they are." Henrietta Perkins, representative for the public health and welfare department of the Solar government, shuddered at his suggestion of live in different parts of the Ring. It's natural they might feel some rivalry, but all this killing! Surely they don't enjoy getting killed." of my space crate. Had to borrow Hank's to get over here. But I know who it was. There ain't but one other ring-rat got a rocket my injector will fit." of the Ring knew just exactly what kind of spacecraft the other had. "That's right," said Gus, "and I'm fixing to go over into Thirty-seven and yank Bud up by the roots." "Revenuer?" "Nope. From the welfare outfit. Aims to help you fellows out. Says there ain't no sense in you boys in Twenty-three all the time fighting with the gang from Thirty-seven." "Space polo," said Gus. ring-rats ride around on are so used to second rate fuel they'd split wide open first squirt of high test stuff you gave them." think of everything." "Hamilton!" squeaked Meek. "Sure," said Gus. "Old Gus Hamilton. Grow the finest dog-gone radiation moss you ever clapped your eyes on." place where gravity was no more than the faintest whisper. III even a purpose or a problem, let alone a solution or a point. The whole thing was squirrely. But, Meek told himself, it fitted in. The whole Saturnian system was wacky. The rings, for example. Debris of a moon smashed up by Saturn's pull? Sweepings of space? No one knew. Saturn itself, for that matter. A planet that kept Man at bay with deadly radiations. But radiations that, while they kept Man at a distance, at the same time served Man. For here, on the Inner Ring, And because Earth needed the moss to cure a dozen maladies and because it would grow nowhere else but here on the Inner Ring, men squatted on the crazy swirl of spacial boulders that made up the ring. Men like Hamilton, living on rocks that bucked and heaved along their orbits like chips riding the crest of a raging flood. Men who endured loneliness, dared death when crunching orbits intersected or, when rickety spacecraft flared, who went mad with nothing to do, with the the same again. If we don't watch out, we'll find ourselves being polite to one another." into solid metal and pull the hole in after them, seems like. Sneakiest cusses in the whole dang system. Just like chiggers back on Earth." "Maybe these things do, too," Gus contended. The radio on the mantel blared a warning signal, automatically tuning in on one of the regular newscasts from Titan City out on Saturn's biggest moon. The syrupy, chamber of commerce voice of the announcer was shaky with excitement and pride. "Next week," he said, "the annual Martian-Earth football game will be played at Greater New York on Earth. But in the Earth's newspapers tonight another story has pushed even that famous classic of the "The sporting event, ladies and gentlemen, that is being talked up and down the streets of Earth tonight, is one that will be played here in our own Saturnian system. A space polo game. To be played by two unknown, pick-up, amateur teams down in the Inner Ring. Most of the men have never played polo before. Few if any of them have even seen a it was. "But they're going to play it. The men who ride those bucking rocks that make up the Inner Ring will go out into space in their rickety ships and fight it out. And ladies and gentlemen, when I say fight it out, I really mean fight it out. For the game, it seems, will be a sort of tournament, the final battle in a feud that has been going on in the Ring for years. No one knows what started the feud. It has gotten so it really doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is that when men from sector Twenty-three meet those from sector Thirty-seven, the Ring go out into space to play that most dangerous of all sports, space polo. For the outcome of that game will decide, forever, the supremacy of one of the two sectors."

<question>:
What is the language spoken on Saturn?

<options>:
A Martian
B English
C Binary
D Saturnese

<answer>:

B