A new form of propulsion has the military excited. But why do they need an expert in ritual magic on board their new flagship spacecraft? And why do they need an exorcist? It is soon apparent they are meddling with forces they don't understand. But can they be controlled? A Lovecraftian short story. This is an old one, from about 1993, not long after I started out. It got reworked into an expanded novella THE PLASM for Dark Regions Press, but here it is in its original form. Think of it in black and white, 50s B movie style—that's how it runs in my head.