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 Anglers of Arz [Transcriber Note: This etext was produced from IF Worlds of Science Fiction January 1953. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] There were two pinkish, bipedal fishermen on the tiny Marco Four's planet was a repetition of the two before it, a nine-hour intermission of drowsy, pastoral peace. Navigator Arthur Farrell—it was his turn to stand watch—was sitting at an open-side port with a magnoscanner ready Sunrise brought him alert with a jerk, frowning at sight of two pinkish, bipedal Arzian fishermen posted on the tiny coral islet a quarter-mile offshore, their blank triangular faces turned stolidly toward the beach. "They're at it again," Farrell called, and dropped to the mossy turf outside. "Roll out on the double! I'm going to magnofilm this!" Stryker and Gibson came out of their sleeping cubicles reluctantly, "Any sign of the squids yet?" he asked. "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 be Fifth Order beings or higher, and under Terran Regulations our tampering with what may be a basic culture-pattern would amount to armed 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 that matter, what became of the city I saw when we came in through the stratosphere? It must be a tremendous thing, yet we've searched the entire globe in the scouter and found nothing but water and a scattering beyond them by a million years." Stryker and Farrell traded baffled looks. The city had become something irritating habit of being right—had worn their patience thin. "There never was a city here, Gib," Stryker said. "You dozed off while we were making planetfall, that's all." 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 fishers instantly under their snapping, threshing bodies. Then around the outcrop the sea boiled whitely, churned to foam by a sudden uprushing of black, octopoid shapes. "The squids," Stryker grunted. "Right on schedule. Two seconds too late, 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 Chattering pink natives straggled past from the shelter of the thorn Marco's planetfall one of the pink fishers had fallen from a casting ledge into the water, and would surely have gone in after him. And the Marco's crew had explored Arz exhaustively without finding any "I'll be damned," he muttered. "No boats, and they don't swim. The Arzians did not swim, and without boats.... It occurred to him then that there had been two of the pink fishers on 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 his whole fabric of speculation fell into a tangled snarl of inconsistencies. He gave it up finally how could any Earthman rationalize the outlandish compulsions that actuated so alien a race? Stryker's sanction was, strictly speaking, a breach of Terran Regulations, but— "Damn Terran Regulations," he muttered. "I've got to know ." 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 from behind. Marco's danger of predicament. Whatever brought me here anesthetized me first , he thought. Panic seized him again when he remembered the green flying-lizards Marco Four here fast, Gib! The flying-lizards—" He broke off, seeing for the first time the octopods that ringed the 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 moment, Arthur—blinded the whole crew with the exhaust, I think. Stand Farrell had a last dizzy glimpse of the islet against the rush of green water below, and felt his shaky laugh of relief stick in his throat. Two of the octopods were swimming strongly for shore, holding the rigid Arzian native carefully above water between them. Marco had any brains. It was under water, of course." In the Marco Four enough," Gibson said. "I realized that finally, remembering how they used high-altitude blimps during the First Wars to spot submarines, and bottom—a city to compare with anything men ever built." Stryker stared. "A marine city? What use would sea-creatures have for buildings?" "None," Gibson said. "I think the city must have been built ages ago—by men or by a manlike race, judging from the architecture—and was 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," Gibson said patiently. "They even own the pink fishers. It was one of 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." 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—" couldn't spot their motivation!" Gibson got up and sealed the port, shutting out the soft morning breeze. "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 He and Stryker were still grinning over it when Gibson, unamused, blasted the Marco Four free of Arz.

<question>:
What likely happened to the pink anglers once the Marco departed?

<options>:
A They went on to challenge the squid
B There was no change
C They developed space travel
D They took over the planet

<answer>:

B