He's trying to do his part. As much as people give him flak for it, he knows the Prime Directive front and back. He's wearing a brown cloak over his clothes and has ditched his command golds and belt for just his black pants and undershirt in an attempt to look as plain as possible. Still, he's clean and hasn't shaved himself bald. Nor does he have the decency to have some rocking facial hair despite this. He still sticks out.

"Why call them the Wretched?" They don't look to be particularly diseased. Jim wonders if they're not simply peasants. The thought twinges at something in him, but he's seen all sorts of societal views on his travels. They're trying to survive. He can respect that.

"My first officer would have a field day in this place." Jim takes a look around with an impressed whistle. "His home world was dry and hot too." Was being the focal word there.