The capsule sat on the shuttle bay floor, protected by a level ten forcefield.  The room had been locked under quarantine procedures, and Commander Park stood in a level ten protective suit, staring at the unassuming capsule that remained a mystery.  Behind the thick protective glass stood Captain Wren Walton and Lieutenant Grace Albright.  They had waited forty-five minutes, fifteen more than the thirty Fontana had ordered.    She tapped at the glass, activating the communication channel, “Commander, go ahead and do your walk around.  We’ll run some tests on what’s within the forcefield.”

Park shuffled her booted feet awkwardly.  Part of her was fascinated with whatever this was.  And yet…the other part of her was uneasy.  Was it a lifeboat?  Or was it a bomb that, once they brought it onboard, was going to rip them apart in a fiery explosion?  She knew the strength of the forcefield.  Her mind worried about the strength of whatever was inside the capsule.  She gritted her teeth, “Starting my walk around.”  She clicked the body camera’s power on and slowly traversed the distance around it, her eyes searching the smooth exterior for any clue.  She narrated, “Initial observations on the nature of the unit – I don’t see any sections or evidence that there’s more than one piece to it.  A low hum of midrange harmonics is coming off the alloy, but it’s not offensive or causing any damage or harm.” She knelt on the ground, searching, “Whatever propulsion exists, it’s keeping it upright – no landing gear or support struts are visible.  That might be what the hum is.”  She stood and continued her circle, “I can see faint carvings in various places of the shell, but at this range, I can’t visibly get details.  Note to pull the footage from the camera.”  A few minutes later, she arrived back where she had started.  She tapped the camera to transmit the video and photos to the central computer, “I can’t see any kind of console or keys to interact with – if we’re going to find a way in, we’re going to have to put our hands on it at some point.”

Walton’s voice replied in her earpiece, “We agree. Come on back – those photos might help.”

“That’s…written Tholian?”  Park was dumbstruck.

Grace was at the console, working on the translation, “We know of at least one written language, but there’s been a persistent rumor of a second.  There’s an entire Linguistic Department devoted to scraping together the proof.  They’ve been at it for a few years.”  She paused as she focused on certain parts of the inscriptions, then compared them to the known texts that had been gathered.  “This section is…some kind of warning.  ‘Warning.  Within lies The Cursed Child’…there’s an additional name.  It’ll take some time to find an approximate translation.”  Grace moved on to the other sections.

Park turned to her CO, “I don’t know if this is the test you think it is.  Either they’re throwing away someone they don’t value enough to keep…or they’re trying to pass a curse onto us that even they can’t handle.”  She turned back as Albright continued.

“More warnings. ‘This casket contains…something something…unholy and unclean’.  Some more naming…this is interesting – a planet name?”  She zoomed in, “It reads as ‘JaKaRes.’  That’s not on our list of possible planet names.”

Walton glanced out of the office at the monolithic capsule in the shuttle bay.  She wondered, “Are we dealing with something that scares the Tholians?”

Grace scrolled through the images, “Whatever is in there, they don’t want any part of it.  Usually, in their written language, it’s clear and direct – what they want, how they want it.  Tholians are not subtle…ever.  I don’t think the word is in our understanding of their dictionary.”

For her part, Park grimaced, “I’ve seen the old Earth movies about mummies and ghosts.  Those were unsettling enough on principle…but a haunted Tholian creature?  They’re hard enough to figure out and fight on an average day.  I was concerned about sending it back to them at first…but knowing what we know now…can we just…send it back?”

Wren wished that were possible.  “No going back – we’re in it now.  If whoever’s in there is still alive, we owe it to them to keep them alive – haunted mummy or not.  Park, work with operations to install and prepare the intensive scanning equipment in the shuttle bay.  I know.  I’m not any less thrilled.  Albright – update Montana Station…any luck finding a friendly Ferengi with Tholian experience?”

Grace tapped at the console, and a dossier faded into view, “Hoksta.  Veteran trader who’s made a business of decades of work with the Tholians.  He’s willing to talk, but I don’t know if I would define him as friendly.  He’s not a fan of Starfleet or the Federation as a whole.  A lot of history.”

Walton grinned slyly, “Then it’s a good thing I’ve got you, Diplomatic Attaché Albright.  You’ll be my carer.”

Albright frowned, “Carer?”

Park filled in the missing context: “Her carer—you care, so she doesn’t have to.”

Wren headed for the door, “Come along, Diplomatic Attaché Albright – let’s get ready for Hoksta.”

Grace stood and turned to Park, “She like this all the time?”

The XO smiled widely, “Welcome aboard the Perseverance.”