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 U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] Score one or one million was not enough for the human race. It had to be all or nothing ... with one man doing every bit of scoring! Arthur Lanceford slapped futilely at the sith buzzing hungrily around Lanceford had the insane hope that the arthropod would fall out of Lanceford eyed the insect distastefully as he explored his jacket for far as permanent discouraging went, the repellent was useless. Once It was as simple as that. He had hoped that he would be fast enough to get the sith before it got him. He had been bitten once already and the memory of those paralyzed a more accurate definition. It was a coincidence, of course, but the planet and its mythological Greek namesake had much in common. Lanceford shrugged fatalistically. Uncomfortable as a protection suit Like the dominant species on every intelligent planet in the explored galaxy, he was an erect, bipedal, mammalian being with hands that Lanceford couldn't repress an involuntary shudder at some of the There was no doubt that the native was intelligent, yet he, like the rest of his race, was a technological moron. It was strange that a race which had a well-developed philosophy and an amazing comprehension of semantics could be so backward in mechanics. Even the simpler of the BEE's mechanisms left the natives confused. It was possible that they could learn about machinery, but Lanceford was certain that it would Lanceford finished tucking the last fold of face net under his collar, him flotation that Lanceford envied. As a result, his head was nearly level with that of the human, although there was better than a foot difference in their heights. Lanceford looked at Kron inquiringly. "You have a place in mind where "Lead on," Lanceford said, groaning silently to himself—another villages. Lanceford sighed a mingled breath of relief and unpleasant heading like a winged bullet for Lanceford's neck. But the man was The high-pitched buzz and Lanceford's gloved hand met simultaneously at his right ear. The buzz stopped abruptly. Lanceford shook his head and the sith fell to the ground, satisfactorily swatted. Lanceford one of the hunters—a fellow-tribesman, judging from the tattoo on his chest. To a Niobian, the scene was ordinary, but to Lanceford it could have Lanceford reflected, native customs had undeniable merit. empty sleeping platforms where they would spend the night. Lanceford Lanceford nodded, his stomach crawling with unpleasant anticipation. A native meal was something he would prefer to avoid. His digestive the forthcoming assault. What the natives classed as a delicate and explanation might be, it didn't affect the fact that eating native Lanceford's eyes watered, his stomach tautened convulsively, but the offered him samples of the mess. With equal persistence, he had Lanceford's dreams were unpleasant. Nightmare was the usual penalty of therefore it couldn't hurt him. He grimaced painfully, the movement bringing another twinge to his swollen face. He should have known syringe into his arm. He hoped that this was one of the times the drug worked. If it wasn't, he reflected grimly, he wouldn't be long for this world. protection suits. Lanceford never questioned the necessity or the proceeded at all possible speed. With so many considerations weighed Lanceford groaned as a violent pain shot through his head. The were old during the Dark Ages before the Atomic Revolution, sending foot parties to explore a world in the chance that they might discover The reaction was observably and painfully worse. It was important that the news of his death and the specimens he had collected get back to Base Alpha. They might have value in this complex game Alvord Sims was playing with men, machines and Niobe. But Base Alpha was a good hundred miles away and, in his present condition, he couldn't walk a hundred feet. For a moment, he considered setting up the powerful little transmitter he carried in his pack, but his first abortive motion convinced him it was useless. The blinding agony that swept through him at the slightest movement left no doubt that he would never finish the business of setting up the antenna, let alone send a message. It was a crime that handie-talkies couldn't be used here on Niobe, but their range, limited at best, was practically nonexistent on a planet that literally seemed to be one entire "dead spot." A fixed-frequency job broadcasting on a directional beam was about the only thing that could cover distance, and that required a little technical know-how to set up the antenna and focus it on Base Alpha. There would be no help from Kron. Despite his intelligence, the native could no more assemble a directional antenna than spread pink wings and fly. There was only one thing to do—get a note off to Sims, if he could still write, and ask Kron to deliver the note and his pack to the Base. He fumbled with his jacket, and with some pain produced a stylus and a The stylus slipped from numb fingers as Lanceford called hoarsely, among the aliens. Surprisingly, the effects were the same—the livid swellings, the gasping breath, the pain. Strange how these foreigners reacted like his own people. It was his duty to help Lanceford, but how could he? The Earthman had denied his help for weeks, and Niobians simply didn't disregard The human was apparently resolved to die. He had told Kron his last wishes, which didn't include a request for help, but merely to get his pack back to the others in their glass dome. It was astonishing that such an obviously intelligent species should have so little flexibility. They didn't understand the first principles of adaptation. their artificial defenses, they died, stubborn, unregenerate, Lanceford breathed wheezily. The swelling had invaded the inner made—the longest trek a man's made on this benighted planet." Kron nodded, but then belatedly realized that the human was muttering to himself. He listened. There might be something important in these dying murmurings, something that might explain their reasons for being "Of course not," Lanceford said with weak surprise. He hadn't dreamed Despite the pain that tore at his throat, Lanceford managed a chuckle. nodded with satisfaction and returned to where Lanceford lay. The hunthouse was deserted save for himself and the Earthman. With thankful that they were gone, for what he was about to do would shock Lanceford was dimly conscious of Kron prying his swollen jaws apart like a warm black blanket over his outraged nervous system. The stuff Kron had given him apparently had some anesthetic properties. He felt dimly grateful, even though the primitive native nostrum would probably do no good other than to ease the pain. his nervous system. It stopped the pain and left him unable to move, He couldn't see Kron—the muscles that moved his eyes were as paralyzed as the other muscles of his body and the native was outside his field of vision—but somehow he knew exactly what the Niobian was doing. He Lanceford's mind froze, locked in a peculiar contact that was more fruits might occur from true understanding between his own race and the aliens. It was a strangely jumbled kaleidoscopic flash that burned across the explorer's isolated mind, a flash that passed almost as soon as it had come, as though an invisible door had closed upon it. But one thing in that briefly shocking contact stood out with great clarity. The Niobians were as eager as the BEE to establish a true contact, a true understanding, for the message was there, plain in Kron's mind that he was thinking not only for himself but for a consensus of his people, a decision arrived at as a result of discussion and thought—a decision of which every Niobian was aware and

<question>:
What happened after the native tried to help Lanceford?

<options>:
A Lanceford's paralysis went away
B The treatment did not work
C He washed his hands in disgust
D They had a telepathic connection

<answer>:

D