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

<passage>:
that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] was a question as to which was which. Marco Four's landfall on the moonless Altarian Sunrise brought him alert with a jerk, frowning at sight of two pinkish, outside. "Roll out on the double! I'm going to magnofilm this!" looked, Farrell thought for the thousandth time, more like a retired "They won't show up until the dragons come," Farrell said. He adjusted the light filter of the magnoscanner and scowled at Stryker. "Lee, I wish you'd let me break up the show this time with a dis-beam. This water. "You know I can't do that, Arthur. These Arzians may turn out to invasion. We'll have to crack that cackle-and-grunt language of theirs and learn something of their mores before we can interfere." Farrell turned an irritable stare on the incurious group of Arzians "What stumps me is their motivation," he said. "Why do the fools go out to that islet every night, when they must know damned well what will happen next morning?" of little islands like this one, all covered with bramble. It wasn't a beyond them by a million years." of a fixation with Gibson, and his dogged insistence—coupled with an irritating habit of being right—had worn their patience thin. Gibson stiffened resentfully, but Farrell's voice cut his protest short. "Get set! Here they come!" Out of the morning rainbow dropped a swarm of winged lizards, twenty feet in length and a glistening chlorophyll green in the early light. They stooped like hawks upon the islet offshore, burying the two Arzian as usual, to stop the slaughter." A barrage of barbed tentacles lashed out of the foam and drove into the melee of winged lizards. The lizards took the air at once, leaving behind three of their number who disappeared under the surface like harpooned seals. No trace remained of the two Arzian natives. "A neat example of dog eat dog," Farrell said, snapping off the magnoscanner. "Do any of those beauties look like city-builders, Gib?" beach to begin their day's fishing. either of you be using the scouter today?" you won't find anything." that the discrepancy assumed definite form. would surely have gone in after him. And the Marco's crew had explored Arz exhaustively without finding any slightest trace of boats or of boat landings. The train of association completed itself with automatic logic, almost rousing Farrell out of his " He fell asleep with the paradox unresolved. understand how dangerous to our assignment an obsession of that sort can be." Farrell shrugged. "I'd agree with you offhand if it weren't for Gib's I'll probably be standing his watch until he's satisfied." startled. Why two? Why not three or four, or only one? of dull routine logwork had built up a need for physical action that chafed his temper he was intrigued and at the same time annoyed by the enigmatic relation that linked the Arzian fishers to the dragons and squids, and his desire to understand that relation was aggravated by the knowledge that Arz could be a perfect world for Terran colonization. That is, he thought wryly, if Terran colonists could stomach the weird custom pursued by its natives of committing suicide in pairs. He went over again the improbable drama of the past three mornings, and found it not too unnatural until he came to the motivation and the means of transportation that placed the Arzians in pairs on the islet, when his whole fabric of speculation fell into a tangled snarl of inconsistencies. He gave it up finally his restlessness. He made his decision abruptly, laying aside the He did not choose a weapon because he saw no need for one. The torch know ." the bramble he came upon a pair of Arzians curled up together on the unrevealing. He worked deeper into the underbrush and found other sleeping couples, but nothing else. There were no humming insects, no twittering night-birds or scurrying rodents. He had worked his way close to the center of the island without further discovery and was on the point of turning back, disgusted, when something bulky and powerful seized him last conscious thought was not of his own danger, but of Stryker—asleep could not. but for some seconds his shuttling mind was too busy to consider the danger of predicament. he thought. That sting in my shoulder was like a hypo needle. Panic seized him again when he remembered the green flying-lizards more failed. motion !" He gathered himself for another shout, and recalled with a chill of horror the tablet Stryker had mixed into his nightcap the night before. easily disturbed. suggestion of flapping wings. "Farrell! What the devil are you doing on that butcher's block?" Farrell fought down an insane desire to laugh. "Never mind that—get here fast, Gib! The flying-lizards—" He broke off, seeing for the first time the octopods that ringed the outcrop just under the surface of the water, waiting with barbed tentacles spread and yellow eyes studying him glassily. He heard the unmistakable flapping of wings behind and above him then, and thought with shock-born lucidity: . close above his head that he felt the wind of its passage. Almost instantly he heard the shrilling blast of its emergency bow jets as Gibson met the lizard swarm head on. Gibson's voice came tinnily from the audicom. "Scattered them for the water below, and felt his shaky laugh of relief stick in his throat. Two ." himself over some private stupidity. "I'd have found it sooner if I'd of being permanently disabled. submerged later by a sinking of land masses that killed off the original builders and left Arz nothing but an oversized archipelago. The squids took over then, and from all appearances they've developed a culture of their own." "I don't see it," Stryker complained, shaking his head. "The pink fishers—" "Are cattle, or less," Gibson finished. "The octopods are the dominant race, and they're so far above Fifth Order that we're completely out of bounds here. Under Terran Regulations we can't colonize Arz. It would be armed invasion." "Invasion of a squid world?" Farrell protested, baffled. "Why should surface colonization conflict with an undersea culture, Gib? Why couldn't we share the planet?" "Because the octopods own the islands too, and keep them policed," the squid-people, making a dry-land canvass of his preserve here to pick a couple of victims for this morning's show, that carried you off last night." "Behold a familiar pattern shaping up," Stryker said. He laughed suddenly, a great irrepressible bellow of sound. "Arz is a squid's world, Arthur, don't you see? And like most civilized peoples, they're sportsmen. The flying-lizards are the game they hunt, and they raise the pink fishers for—" Farrell swore in astonishment. "Then those poor devils are put out there deliberately, like worms on a hook—angling in reverse! No wonder I couldn't spot their motivation!" "Colonization being out of the question, we may as well move on before the octopods get curious enough about us to make trouble. Do you feel up to the acceleration, Arthur?" Farrell and Stryker looked at each other, grinning. Farrell said: "You don't think I want to stick here and be used for bait again, do you?" blasted the Marco Four free of Arz.

<question>:
Who would most likely enjoy this story, of the following options?

<options>:
A A science fiction fan who really likes descriptions of space travel.
B A mystery fan who likes to read things with surprise reveals.
C A science fiction fan who really likes interspecies communication.
D A fantasy fan because winged lizards are a major element of Arz.

<answer>:

B