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

<passage>:
after his ship had crashed in the Mare Cimmerium. But the rest would to get off Mars, because his trail was warm, and the Patrol thorough. didn't know that he was Syme Rector, the most-wanted and most-feared Syme looked at him casually, without a flicker of expression, and "I don't understand," Syme said. "Why, no," Syme told him bewilderedly. "I haven't been following you. Syme murmured something and turned away, feeling the spaceman's eyes even the photograph on the card could be forged once Syme got his hands overhead. Syme looked up, after his first appraising glance about the away. Except for him, the platform was empty. Syme loosened his slim, instinctive gesture. But the blow never landed. Syme's pistol spat its Syme stooped over him swiftly, found a thick wallet and thrust it into It fell, and in the same instant Syme felt a violent tug at his wrist. pulled, with much puffing and panting, and with his help Syme managed Syme looked at the man, nursing the tortured muscles of his arms. His thought—you'd gone over." He looked at Syme questioningly. "Never mind," said Syme, taking his arm. "The shock must have busted it cafe around the corner. Syme wasn't worried about the man he had just it was—his ticket to freedom. He began feeling expansive, and even after them. Syme watched them through narrowed lids, feeling the glow Syme snapped to attention, every nerve tingling. An indefinable sense, was coming—something that promised adventure and loot for Syme Rector. "Why?" he asked softly. "Why to Kal-Jmar?" he showed him what was in his little black suitcase. Syme had been city of the ancient Martian race—the race that, legends said, had risen to greater heights than any other Solar culture. The machines, the artifacts, the records of the Martians were all there, perfectly preserved inside the city's bubble-like dome, after God knew how many as it defied explosives and diamond drills. The field extended both above and below the ground, and tunneling was of no avail. No one knew what had happened to the Martians, whether they were the ancestors of the present decadent Martian race, or a different species. No one knew anything about them or about Kal-Jmar. In the early days, when the conquest of Mars was just beginning, Earth had tried everything they knew to pierce the wall. Later, however, when every unsuccessful attempt had precipitated a bloody uprising of the present-day Martians—resulting in a rapid dwindling of the number of Martians—the Mars Protectorate had stepped in and forbidden any further experiments forbidden, in fact, any force that would break it down. And so he had made his first trip to Mars, and within twenty-four hours, by the blindest of chances, blurted out his secret to Syme Rector, the scourge of the spaceways, the man with a thousand credits Syme's smile was not tigerish now "They're unpredictable," Syme told him. "They're built differently, and Syme stopped the car abruptly as a deep, winding channel appeared Syme nodded and moved the sand car up to the edge of the gully. Then he was in and would bear the car's weight, and Syme started the car over "Most of these gullies peter out gradually," said Syme, "but if we want Neither Syme nor Tate ever had a chance to test the efficiency of their toward them. "My God!" he said. "What are those?" Syme looked. "Those," he said bitterly, "are Martians." Martian fauna, they moved so fast that you couldn't see how many legs they did have. Actually, however, the natives had six legs apiece—or, more properly, four legs and two arms. Their lungs were not as large or, conversely, the black could be expanded to cover the white, which helped to take care of the extremes of Martian temperature. Right now they were mostly black. The natives slowed down and spread out to surround the wrecked sand Martians. Syme stopped cursing and watched tensely. Tate said nothing, but he swallowed audibly. One Martian, who looked exactly like all the rest, stepped forward and motioned unmistakably for the two to come out. He waited a moment and then gestured with his energy gun. That gun, Syme knew from experience, "Come on," Syme said grimly. He rose and reached for a pressure suit, whooshed into the near-vacuum outside, and he and Tate stepped out. The Martian leader looked at them enigmatically, then turned and started off. The other natives closed in on them, and they all bounded along under the weak gravity. phosphorescent gleam from fungus along the walls, but Syme couldn't seltin guna getal. " "Yes, there is air here," said the Martian leader, startlingly. "Not enough for your use, however, so do not open your helmets." Syme swore amazedly. "I thought you said they didn't speak Terrestrial," Tate said. Syme ignored him. "We had our reasons for not doing so," the Martian said. "But how—?" "We are telepaths, of course. On a planet which is nearly airless on "Never mind that," Syme broke in impatiently. "What do you want with It was a weird situation, Syme thought. His mind was racing, but as yet he could see no way out. He began to wonder, if he did, could he keep the Martians from knowing about it? Then he realized that the Martian Syme noticed that the other Martians had retired to the farther side of began. "There are many secrets in Kal-Jmar," the Martian said, "among them a very simple catalyzing agent which could within fifty years transform Mars to a planet with Terrestrially-thick atmosphere." "I think I see," Tate said thoughtfully. "That's been the ultimate aim all along, but so far the problem has us licked. If we solved it, then You couldn't have that, of course." He sighed deeply. He spread his gloved hands before him and looked at them with a queer intentness. "Well—how about the Martians—the Kal-Jmar Martians, I mean? I'd dearly love to know the answer to that one." separate species, although they were unlike us. But they were not our ancestors, either. They were the contemporaries of our ancestors." "Several thousand years ago Mars' loss of atmosphere began to make itself felt. There were two ways out. Some chose to seal themselves into cities like Kal-Jmar Syme saw all his hopes of treasure and glory go glimmering down the sights of the Martian's Benson gun, and suddenly the pent-up rage in him exploded. Too swiftly for his intention to be telegraphed, before he knew himself what he meant to do, he hurled himself bodily into the Martian. It was like tangling with a draft horse. The Martian was astonishingly strong. Syme scrambled desperately for the gun, got it, but couldn't tear it out of the Martian's fingers. And all the time he could almost feel the Martian's telepathic call for help surging out. He heard the swift pad of his followers coming across the cavern. He put everything he had into one mighty, murderous effort. Every muscle fiber in his superbly trained body crackled and surged with power. He roared his fury. And the gun twisted out of the Martian's iron grip! He clubbed the prostrate leader with it instantly, then reversed the weapon and snapped a shot at the nearest Martian. The creature dropped his lance and fell without a sound. Syme jumped to his feet and faced his enemies, snarling like the Syme glared at him and spat, too enraged to think of diplomacy. He Still silently, Syme refilled his oxygen tank, watched Tate do the

<question>:
What did Syme intend to do when he returned to Earth?

<options>:
A Unknown
B Reunite with his family
C Exact revenge
D Exploit the atmosphere catalyst the Martians invented

<answer>:

A