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

<passage>:
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 his way through life by sheer force and drive. But as Ranson looked closer, he could see lines of worry, of fear, etched about the strong why Haller didn't come to the point. Even Terrestial Intelligence Haller?" he asked. "Because we're up against something a little too big for the Mercian police force to handle." Jared Haller's strong hands tapped nervously it's ready for autonomy. Which it isn't yet, by quite some. As you know." Ranson nodded, eyes intent as the pattern unfolded. Martian war-songs being played and some rabble-rouser yelling 'down committed suicide. Not a care in the world, but he killed himself. A week later Harris, head of the television department, went insane. Declared a feud with the whole planet, began shooting at everyone he the musical director, died of a heart attack. Died with the most terrorized expression on his face I've ever seen. Fear, causing the heart attack, his doctor said. You begin to see the set-up? Three men, each a vital power in M.B.C. gone within three weeks! And who's next? Who?" Jared Haller's eyes were bright with fear. "Suicide, insanity, heart attack." Ranson shrugged. "All perfectly normal. Coincidence that they should happen within three weeks. What makes you think there's been foul play?" "One thing," he said slowly. "The music." "Music?" Ranson echoed. "Look here, Mr. Haller, you...." "It's all right." Jared Haller grinned crookedly. "I'm not insane. Yet. Look, Mr. Ranson! There's just one clue to these mysterious deaths! And that's the music! In each instance the servants told of hearing, very faintly, a strange melody. Music that did queer things to them, even though they could hear it only vaguely. Music like none they'd Jared Haller froze, his face gray as lead, his eyes blue horror. Ranson There was, there had never been, Ranson knew, any music like this. dark snake writhing its endless coils into the room. the hypnotism of sound. Louder and clearer the music sounded, in eerie overtones, quavering sobbing minors, fierce reverberating bass. Sharp shards of sound pierced their ears, deep throbbing underrhythm shook them as a cat shakes a mouse. "God!" Haller snarled. "What ... what is it?" "Don't know." Ranson felt a queer irritation growing within him. He these, he decided, that their unknown serenader lay concealed. Suddenly the elfin melody changed. Fierce, harsh, it rose, until Ranson felt as though a file were rasping his nerves. He knew that he should 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 brain, a strange unreasoning bloodlust grew with the savage beat of the wild music. Berserk rage sounded in each shivering note and Ranson felt an insane desire to run amok. To inflict pain, to see red blood flow, to kill ... kill! Blindly he whirled, groping for his gun, as the music rose in a frenzied death-wail. Turning, Ranson found himself face to face with Jared Haller. But the distorted his features, insane murder lurked in his eyes. The music was his master, and it was driving him to frenzy. "Kill!" the weird rhythm Whether it was the deadly melody outside, or the instinct of self-preservation, Ranson never knew, but he drove at Haller with grim grinning furiously, and in a moment both men were struggling, teeth bared in animalistic grins, breath coming in choked gasps, whirling in a mad dance of death as the macabre music distilled deadly poison within their brains. The end came with startling suddenness. Ranson, twisting his opponent's arm back, felt the searing blast of the flame-gun past his hand. Jared Haller, a ghastly blackened corpse, toppled to the floor. At that moment the lethal rhythm outside changed abruptly. From the fierce maddening beat of a few minutes before, the chords took on a of man's hopes, man's dreams, were in that music, and it drew Ranson as toward the source of the music, like a man drugged. As he approached the window the melody grew louder. The hypnotism of disappeared among the twisting narrow streets. Bathed in cold sweat, Ranson stepped back into the room, where the still, terrible form of first time. Outside, there were pounding feet the canal-patrolmen raced through the house, toward the study. And then, his brain weary as if it had been cudgelled, Ranson slid limply to the floor. "Yes." Ranson nodded sombrely. "In the struggle. Self-defense. But even if it hadn't been self-defense, I probably would have fought with him. That music was madness, I tell you! Madness! Nobody's responsible when under its influence! I...." "You killed Haller," Captain Maxwell said. "And you blame it on this "While the real killer, the person playing that music, gets away? Look! speed, he lunged across the desk, tore Captain Maxwell's pistol from its holster. Before the captain and the two patrolmen knew what had "It'll only make it tougher for you when we nab you again! Be sensible! Put down that gun." "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 halted him, but a wave of Ranson's T.I. card put the man aside. Free of headquarters, Ranson began to run. Only a few moments, he danger, he felt, of patrolmen hunting for him at Haller's house. The captain had little faith in copybook maxims about the murderer returning to the scene of the crime. it was a safe bet that no one other than the strange musician had 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 as a phantom, muscles tense. Gripping his flame-gun, he pushed the door wide ... and a sudden exclamation broke from his lips. Before him lay a gleaming laboratory, lined with vials of strange behind the unholy music! the same as Haller and I...." The music was a caress, soft as a woman's skin. Slow, drowsy, like laboratory. "Come ... come on," Ranson said thickly. "Got to get out of here." But his words held no force, and Elath Taen was nodding sleepily under the influence of the weird dream-music. Ranson knew he should act, swiftly, while he could but the movement of a single muscle seemed an intolerable effort. His skin felt as though it were being rubbed with velvet, a strange purring sensation filled his brain. He tried to think, to move, but his will seemed in a padded vise. The music was dragging him down, down, into the gray mists of oblivion. smile of triumph on his face. Ranson turned to the direction of the music, tried to raise his gun, but the weapon slipped from his fingers, he fell to his knees. Sleep ... that was all that mattered ... sleep. The music was like chloroform, its notes stroked his brain.

<question>:
What is the root of Haller's fear of the music?

<options>:
A He is afraid he will be killed.
B He is frightened of Elath Taen.
C He is scared of Martian independence.
D He fears the loss of bodily control.

<answer>:

A