[ Before Spock stands, and pulls away, he grips his First Officer's hand back. He takes a moment, letting him get a few steps ahead of him, stands to straighten his working uniform, and follows after.

The first thing that strikes him is as if it were pulled straight out of his own memories, and he has to stop, breathe through his mouth, and focus on the task at hand. Some of the others of his crew that are part of security, and medical are covering their faces, coughing. The stench of death is obvious, and it is something Jim will never be able to forget for as long as he lives, he's certain. He turns to face the crew. ]

We split into three teams. Spock is with me, along with Lt. Haverson and Chief Dalen. I want everyone to documenting everything that might be of relevance, keep open channels at all times, and contact the nearest security officer at the first sign of trouble. We meet back here in two hours unless communicated otherwise, understood?

[ There are nods of assent and yes sirs from the crew, and people split off into teams. Jim heads towards one of the housing areas, litter and dust blowing past his feet with the winds increase. ]