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

<passage>:
THE MOONS OF MARS of course, Martians. But this one did! him . is as natural as breathing. However, there was something peculiar about The first was that he was a Martian little boy. You could be very sure of that, for Earth little boys have earlobes while Martian little boys which I should have thought not very appealing to a little boy. "Hi, there," I said when he came near enough. "What's that you're "The what That pleased him. His eyes lit up and an almost-smile flirted with the corners of his small mouth. He nodded grave agreement. mechanical hell of a mess on the placid face of Mars. were still occupied, like the one into which the Martian boy had just So his mother All Martians are as tone-deaf as a bucket of lead. "You're Mobile Security, aren't you? Or is that badge you're wearing just something to cover a hole in your shirt?" "Yes, I'm Security, but does it have to mean something?" I asked. "All you at all. I didn't know you lived here and I don't know who you are. I'm not even that I was interested in. The little Martian boy, I mean." taught him." Her eyes hadn't budged from mine, hadn't flickered. They might have She said one word only: "Well?" "Nothing," I answered. "Except that Martians are supposed to be tone-deaf, aren't they? It's something lacking in their sense of hearing. So when I heard this little boy, and saw he was a Martian, and when he told me his mother had taught him—" I shrugged and laughed a little. "Like I said before, I guess I got just plain nosy." She nodded. "We agree on that last part." Perhaps it was her eyes. Or perhaps it was the tone of her voice. Or perhaps, and more simply, it was her attitude in general. But whatever "I would like to speak to the Martian lady," I said. "There isn't any Martian lady." Her eyes were telling me that the little Martian boy wasn't a little Martian boy at all, that he was cross-breed, a little chap who had a Martian father and a human, Earthwoman mother. It was a startling thought, for there just aren't any such mixed marriages. Or at least I had thought there weren't. Physically, spiritually, mentally, or by any other standard you can think of, compared to a human male the Martian isn't anything you'd want around the house. inside her. "There isn't anything to be ashamed of," I said gently. "Back on Earth there's a lot of mixtures, you know. Some people even claim there's no such thing as a pure race. I don't know, but I guess we all started somewhere and intermarried plenty since." She nodded. Somehow her eyes didn't look defiant any more. "H-he's dead." "I'm sorry. Are you all right? I mean do you get along okay and everything, now that...?" "So?" he said. "Wanted, isn't he?" He nodded. "But a lot of good that'll do. He's holed up somewhere back on Earth." " What? I'm not especially fussy which. Just get him!" I had idly listened to a little half-breed Martian boy whistling part was doing it with mirrors, for on Mars an Authority Card is the big stick than which there is no bigger. Not solely is it a warrant, it is a commandeer of help from anyone to whom it is presented and wherever I showed it I got respect. was not finding the Earthwoman and her little half-breed Martian son Reservation, where the Martians still try to act like Martians. to the two moons. At times like this you want to leave the Martians The huge circle fire was burning and the dance was in progress. Briefly, this can be described as something like the ceremonial dances put on centuries ago by the ancient aborigines of North America. There was one important exception, however. Instead of a central fire, the Martians dig a huge circular trench and fill it with dried roots of the belu tree and set fire to it. Being pitch-like, the gnarled fragments burn for hours. Inside this ring sit the spectators, and in the exact center are the dancers. For music, they use the drums. The dancers were both men and women and they were as naked as Martians can get, but their dance was a thing of grace and loveliness. For an instant—before anyone observed me—I stood motionless and watched thought before, that this is the one thing the Martians can still do The Martian turned, went away from the half-light of the circle. He led Wahanhk is an old Martian. I don't think any Martian before him has the appearance of being done deliberately by a Martian sand-artist. "Power sign of the Earthmen," he muttered. "Not necessarily," I said. "I'm not here for trouble. I know as well as you do that, before tonight is finished, more than half of your men "I'm looking for an Earthwoman," I said. "This particular Earthwoman took a Martian for a husband." "I met her little son," I went on. "A little semi-human boy with Martian features. Or, if you want to turn it around and look at the other side, a little Martian boy who whistles." His teeth went together with a snap. I nodded and smiled. "You know who I'm talking about." "Why?" His whisper was brittle. "She's not in trouble," I told him quickly. "She's not wanted. Nor her child, either. It's just that I have to talk to her." "I have never seen this Earthman," he said. "All right," I answered. "There wasn't anything that made me think you had. The point is that he knows the woman. It follows, naturally, that she might know him." "This one is wanted "Murder." He spat the word. "But not for the murder of a Martian, eh? Martians are not that important any more." His old eyes hated me with only bores a Martian. circle and the dancers within, and, too, I suppose, to her small son who was somewhere in that circle with them, whistling. She leaned against the bole of a belu from the fires, subtle changes in expression weren't easily detected. "Why should I care about an Earthman? My husband was a Martian. And he's dead, see? Dead. Just a Martian. Not fit for anything, like all Martians. Just a bum who fell in love with an Earthwoman and had the whoever it was, I'll get him. I'll get him! " And I knew then the reason for old Wahanhk's bitterness when he had said to me, "But not for the murder of a Martian, eh? Martians are not I put an arm around her shoulders. "He must have been a pretty nice guy," I said. "I don't think you'd have married him if he wasn't." I stopped. Even in my own ears, my words sounded comfortless. I looked up, over at the flaming circle and at the sweat-laved dancers within of speed and savagery combined and those who moved to its frenetic jabberings were not dancers any more, but only frenzied, jerking and he knew it would be safe, he was going to stake a claim and go after it. For us. For the three of us." him without his knowledge and I knew it. I also knew that before long he'd know it, too. And he did—but he didn't let me know he did until "I have?" "That isn't an honorable thing to do," he said very gravely. "A course—the city of Deimos and Phobos. Other than that he had no a whistle, sure, but a warning one. I stopped in my tracks from the shock of it. Yes, I knew from whom it had come, all right. But I didn't know why.

<question>:
How is the relationship between the Martians and the humans?

<options>:
A They are friendly.
B They have a business relationship.
C The Martians are distrustful of the humans.
D They are allies.

<answer>:

C