The tiny spaceship glimmers turquoise, blending with the seafloor. Its alien pilot slumbers, snoring softly among long-lost cephalopod cousins. Outside, a human scuba diver gawks and fingertaps the ship’s hull. The little alien wakes, yawning with all her sharp beaks. Clumsy-knuckled hands lift the ship and shake. The alien’s tummy roils. She fires her photon stingers. The human yelps, mouthpiece expelled. Oxygen bubbles spiral. The ship zigzags away. Glowering, the human lunges and grabs. Squid cousins surge, release blinding clouds of ink. They giggle as the human flails. The alien giggles, too, launching skyward. She’ll sleep better on Venus, anyway.