Ralf Winslow, lobsterman, was often a man of few words... and lately what he had to say was not particularly nice. Fishing and life in general hadn't been going well for Ralf. Then one quiet morning, the lone lobsterman was startled by a mystifying streak of light swooping across the dawn. The fiery white band closed with the surface of the water, tearing along the line of Ralf's traps and buoys. Before he could appreciate what was taking place, a steaming saucer the size of a kiddy park merry-go-round and just as colorful came to rest not twenty feet from crashing into the Betsy Ann Jolene. From that time on Ralf and the universe were changed forever...