Imagine your the poor sociological or xenobiologist on this Ba’ku mission:

Sooo we got a cool planet, magic rings and all

magic rings?

Oh just kidding we don’t know what they do, but they are inside are murder nebula…

oooohkay….

The native population looks suspiciously like your generic caucasians.

- Oh, so we’re going in native garb?

- No, there’s literally only 300 of them on the entire planet, we’re pretty sure they all know each other.

- Oh.

- Cloaking suits!!

- Greeeeat.

- Oh but that’s not all, we’ve got shifty allies.

- Shifty?

- Sorry I meant to emphasize allies and not shifty. it’s not like they’ve got slave races or fun with plastic surgery or somehow joint command of this mission.

- ….is there any good news?

- We’ve got Data!

- ….so I’m just cannon fodder, right? there’s no way I don’t end up dead in this scenario.