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 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 islet. In order to make Izaak Walton's sport complete, there must be an angler, a fish, and some bait. All three existed on Arz but there was a question as to which was which. stand watch—was sitting at an open-side port with a magnoscanner ready but in spite of his vigilance he had not exposed a film when the 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!" the crew, a blocky man in his early thirties with thick black hair and heavy brows that shaded a square, humorless face. "Any sign of the squids yet?" he asked. "They won't show up until the dragons come," Farrell said. He adjusted and learn something of their mores before we can interfere." Farrell turned an irritable stare on the incurious group of Arzians gathering, nets and fishing spears in hand, at the edge of the to that islet every night, when they must know damned well what will happen next morning?" entire globe in the scouter and found nothing but water and a scattering of little islands like this one, all covered with bramble. It wasn't a city these pink fishers could have built, either. The architecture was beyond them by a million years." irritating habit of being right—had worn their patience thin. 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 forest, ignoring the Earthmen, and lined the casting ledges along the beach to begin their day's fishing. stubbornly. "But it's here somewhere, and I'm going to find it. Will Arthur is off duty after standing watch last night. Help yourself, but something overlooked prodded irritatingly at the back of his planetfall one of the pink fishers had fallen from a casting ledge into the water, and had all but drowned before his fellows pulled him out with extended spear-shafts. Which meant that the fishers could not swim, else some would surely have gone in after him. And the Marco's crew had explored Arz exhaustively without finding any completed itself with automatic logic, almost rousing Farrell out of his doze. "I'll be damned," he muttered. "No boats, and they don't swim. Then how the control board hummed softly, its screen blank on open channel. bullheaded habit of being right. I hope he finds it soon, if it's here. The Arzians did not swim, and without boats.... It occurred to him then that there had been two of the pink fishers on the islet each morning, and the coincidence made him sit up suddenly, he was intrigued and at the same time annoyed by the 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 of transportation that placed the Arzians in pairs on the islet, when inconsistencies. He gave it up finally how could any Earthman his restlessness. He made his decision abruptly, laying aside the 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 and unprotected behind the open port.... He was standing erect when he woke, his back to the open sea and a he caught the pinkish blur of an Arzian fisher standing beside him, and cried out hoarsely in sudden panic when he tried to turn his head and could not. He was on the coral outcropping offshore, and except for the involuntary muscles of balance and respiration his body was paralyzed. Panic seized him again when he remembered the green flying-lizards On shore he could see the Marco Four beach, its silvered sides glistening with dew. The port was still open, The tiny click of its engaging sent him faint with relief. He tried again. "Stryker, help me! I'm on the islet!" 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 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. painful pricking of returning sensation. "I might have known it, damn himself over some private stupidity. "I'd have found it sooner if I'd used high-altitude blimps during the First Wars to spot submarines, and 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." 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." suddenly, a great irrepressible bellow of sound. "Arz is a squid's 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

<question>:
Why did the squid always appear a little bit too late to save the anglers?

<options>:
A The anglers were not useful to the squid
B The anglers were being punished
C The anglers were not the squid's primary interest
D The squid were a nearly defeated colony that didn’t have enough members to save every angler

<answer>:

C