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

<passage>:
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 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 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 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. to a pocket that bulged unmistakably. "Ranson, Terrestial Intelligence." The special agent offered his card. "You sent to Earth a while ago for an operator?" Jared Haller nodded. He was a big, rough-featured individual with gray leonine hair. A battering-ram of a man, one would think, who hammered "Yes," said Jared Haller. "I sent for an operator. You got here quickly, Mr. Ranson!" "Seven days out of earth on the express-liner Arrow ." Ranson wondered why Haller didn't come to the point. Even Terrestial Intelligence Mars ... but Haller was one of the few persons sufficiently important to have an operator sent without explanation as to why he was wanted. police force to handle." Jared Haller's strong hands tapped nervously upon the desk. "No one has greater respect for our local authorities than myself. Captain Maxwell is a personal friend of mine. But I understood that T.I. men had the benefit of certain amazing devices, remarkable inventions, which make it easy for them to track down criminals." 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 "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 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 Almighty God!" Jared Haller froze, his face gray as lead, his eyes blue horror. Ranson outside, they could hear the vague rumbling of the city, with the distant swish of canal boats, the staccato roar of rockets as some earth-bound freighter There was, there had never been, Ranson knew, any music like this. It was the pipes of Pan, the chant of robots, the crying of souls in shards of sound pierced their ears, deep throbbing underrhythm shook them as a cat shakes a mouse. "God!" Haller snarled. "What ... what is it?" astralux arcs. Captain Maxwell chewed at his gray mustache, staring curiously at Ranson. turns this planet upside down!" 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!" 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. 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 liquids, shining test-tubes, and queer apparatus. Beside a table, pouring a black fluid from a beaker into a test-tube, stood a man. 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 black fluid did not so much as waver at Ranson's entrance. Ranson gasped. The bizarre figure was that of Dr. Elath Taen, 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 behind the unholy music! "Good evening, Mr. Ranson," Elath Taen smiled. "Had I known T.I. men were on Mars I should have taken infinitely more precautions. However...." deliberately, to strip off his rubber gloves. "Quit stalling!" Ranson snapped. "Get going! I...." The words faded on the T.I. man's lips. Faintly, in the distance, came the strains of 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

<question>:
Who are "reddies"?

<options>:
A Martians
B Tourists
C Venusians
D Earthmen

<answer>:

A