Data felt nothing as he stared at the display showing the Giant and calculated what a normal human ought to feel under these circumstances. He'd grown better at approximating human emotions over time, determining the appropriate emotional response through a mix of trial and error and research, but ultimately the best he could manage was a mirror of his human companions. Emotions were a curiosity for the Android, if not an obsession. Or rather, they would have been interpreted as either by someone who chose to anthropomorphize the construct.

Data, for all his best efforts, was not human. No matter how close of an analogue he would become, Data would very likely never become human. His life's goal of achieving true personhood was so unlikely as to be a statistical abnormality. The futility might well have crushed someone capable of feeling the weight of doubt or failure.

But Data was not capable of that. Data was an Android.

His friends were aware of that, at least on a conceptual level. But he often suspected that the nuance of that was lost on the often-irrational organics with whom he worked. His analogue emotions were treated as their organic proxies, effectively giving him the results of personhood without having actually achieved the necessary mechanisms to establish and maintain them. In pure clinical terms, had Data been an organic, he would potentially have been diagnosed with some variant of sociopathy or personality disorder. He did not care about the people with whom he worked, not in the same way that they cared about him. Whereas an organic with similar limitations would have likely become violent or destructive, however, Data was not a victim of ego or pride.

Data was capable of following his purpose without the emotions that limited his peers. In truth, he was capable of little else. He had been created with the goal of becoming human, learning to be a good man. A good man was caring, selfless, and dedicated to the communal good, so Data was devoted to those goals. A good man had good friends, so Data sought out other men and women he believed to be objectively good men and women to learn from. Joining Starfleet had almost been a foregone conclusion, it provided him with a series of behavioral codes and communal expectations from which he could rely upon when his own internal sense for "what a good man might do" was insufficient for his circumstances. It also provided him an environment within which his emotional limitations were often an invaluable boon to the mission. It allowed him to do things beyond the limits of mortal men without incurring their fear or derision, instead accumulating their gratitude.

A gratitude he observed clearly in the eyes of every man and woman with a child in the daycare he and Barclay had saved from the Giant's rampage. The organic need to protect one's progeny was powerful, their loyalty to those who aid in that process unquestionable. They congratulated him endlessly, patting him on the back and telling him that he was a hero for being willing to risk everything. That he'd been brave for what he'd done.

But he hadn't been brave. Bravery was when someone did something that they knew to be right in spite of their fear, a product of courage. When he'd transported the Giant out into the vacuum of space he'd not been afraid or courageous, he'd just been acting upon the most practical metrics of cause and effect based upon the resources to which he had immediate access. Data knew that his body would survive the vacuum with minimal damage, and that the Giant would have a limited ability to do him harm. There really wasn't much that could actually harm the Android, his body was as sturdily built as most starship hulls.

He suspected that even with human emotions, the act wouldn't have caused him substantial emotional duress. Then again, he had a relatively limited pool of experiences upon which to judge that, and all of them from the perspective of an outsider.

"Do you think he's scared?" Asked a man's voice from over Data's shoulder. Reginald Barclay stood behind him, observing the same display as the Android. Data observed the man with amber eyes, assessing the other man's emotions.

Reginald Barclay was always an interesting subject to observe. He gave many insights into human frailty given how he was frightened of nearly everything. The man was nervous and unsure of himself, which was made more impractical by his capacity for introspection. He was afraid that his compatriots were always speaking ill of him, which in turn meant that he was always socially awkward around them and caused them to speak ill of him when he was not present.

It would be interesting to see if that would stop now that his shipmates were lauding him as a hero. Data assessed that the man hadn't noticed yet, given his continued nervous twitching, but nobody had referred to the man as "Broccoli," since the incident without someone else nearly coming to blows with the person who'd insulted one of their children's savior. Worf had been on the verge of actually gutting a man who'd been crass enough to suggest that Barclay had probably pissed himself in the Jeffries tube, settling instead for smashing the man's head against the bulkhead leading to of Ten Forward. He probably should have received an official citation for having broken the man's nose, but the only Starfleet witnesses to the incident were Data, who hadn't been noticed by those involved, and Chief O'Brien, who'd informed the man that if he were dumb enough to actually press charges that the Chief would happily do worse to him while singing an Irish shanty. Both Worf and the Chief had children.

Data elected to trust in the judgement of his two friends, and not report the incident. This was, in his estimation, one of those tribal loyalty things that he didn't need to understand totally to properly participate in. So when Barclay gravitated towards Data, choosing to stay near the Android who'd saved him in his moment of need, Data pretended not to notice that the man had avoided any duty that would pull him away from his protector. He had covertly informed the rest of the duty shift that it was acceptable for them to switch shifts to accommodate those desires, and had assigned him difficult tasks in the hopes that it would distract the man from his recent near-death experience.

For now, he'd assigned the man the duty of overseeing the protections keeping the Giant bound and confined to the Brig. Deanna had suggested it would be a good idea to give the man purpose, allow him to have power over the thing that had frightened him. Data wondered if the man's questions were a sign that he'd moved past fear into something more productive.

The Android considered the question briefly before replying, "Perhaps he is. I cannot be certain, as fear is not within my lexicon. He is an engineered being, and I cannot presume to have a baseline for what he does and does not fear."

Reginald considered the Android's response, rubbing at his chin as he manipulated the controls for the shield modulation. "I th-think he is."

"On what do you make that assessment?" Data inquired, turning to the other man in genuine interest. Organics seemed to have a talent for intuitive leaps for this sort of thing that no amount of data processing ever quite seemed able to match.

"He's c-citing something. It's rote, almost l-like scripture." Reginald chewed his lip. "People don't cite s-scripture when they're confident. They c-cite it when they're trying t-to convince someone else that they're right or to comfort themselves. Nobody has been in that room for hours and he keeps repeating the same phrases again and again."

"Many species have meditative rituals for concentration." Data suggested. "The Vulcans seek clarity of thought, and have chats to assert as much."

"D-Data, the Vulcans don't talk of 'purging' the unclean or 'slaying' th-their foes." Barclay turned away from the console to look at the shielded pillar behind them. The Giant's armor sat within it, covered in three different layers of shielding so that the Federation could study its internal mechanisms. "I don't think he's trying to m-meditate. I t-think he's trying to tell us he's not scared."

Data blinked in momentary confusion as he tried to process the contradiction inherent in that statement. "And you feel that him asserting how not afraid of us is evidence of how afraid he is."

"I-I know a lot about being a-afraid, Data." Reginald replied pointing to the armor. "I k-know what it feels like to think that y-you're alone. The only w-way you keep going is to tell yourself that you have to, that y-you're not as scared as you really are. He's naked, l-literally and figuratively. If he isn't afraid he isn't sane."

"Sanity did not appear to be a primary concern of the Giant." Data replied. "But his state of mind at the time of the incident was not indicative of his full faculties."

"Could you imagine how terrible it would be, waking up to discover that you're the only one left of your kind?" Reginald's eyes bulged as he realized what he'd just said and to whom he'd spoken it. "I didn't – I only meant…."

"It's alright." Data replied. "I am not offended. I have no feelings to injure."

"I forget sometimes that you aren't human." Reginald shrugged, "It figures, I never quite get along with p-people as well as I do with machines."

"I do not understand the specifics of emotion, but I do know something of what it is like to wake up and realize that you are part of a world that is not your own." Data approximated a shrug. "I have found my place and purpose."

"Do you think that h-he will end up doing what you did?" Reginald replied. "J-joining Starfleet?"

"I have insufficient inputs to extrapolate a pattern of behavior for our guest." The Android considered the matter. "The Captain seems to hope that a positive exchange of information can be achieved, but given the fatalities I am unsure how much benefit will be derived from this initial meeting."

"I-I didn't go to the wakes." Reginald swallowed. "I c-couldn't bear to see the bodies."

Data nodded. He'd suspected that had been part of why Reginald agreed to this specific shift when it had come up on the duty roster. The ship was in mourning even as its crew tried to establish diplomatic relations with the one who'd slain its own. There had been more than a few rumblings in the enlisted about precisely what ought to have been done with the man in their brig, many of them murderous. It had not been an accident that Data, who required neither rest nor sleep, had been assigned the duty of overseeing the Giant's incarceration. Picard could trust the Android not to "accidentally" vent the atmosphere from the Brig or overload a power conduit to fry him in a jet of plasma. Starfleet was not known for such mutinous violence, but people were people. And many had lost friends and family to the Giant already.

The giant might well choose to enter Starfleet. If those in Starfleet chose to allow him to live long enough to come to that conclusion was another matter entirely. None had actually been so bold as to attempt to kill the Giant in spite of the communal rumblings to that effect, but more than a few of the bereaved had officially petitioned for formal charges to be leveled.

"Data… do you think that the Giant realizes that he's the only one left yet? I mean, he doesn't trust us, he doesn't know us, and he hasn't seemed overly interested in believing us." Barclay chewed his lip. "Do you think that he's just waiting for someone to come and rescue him? More men in that armor?"

Data considered the matter, "It's possible, maybe even probable. He has only recently regained his senses and is, for all intents and purposes, our prisoner. We realize that eons have passed since his society fell to antiquity, but there is no reason to assume he is aware of this."

"I- I d-don't envy the one who has to tell him that." Reginald shivered. "E-either he b-believes you or he doesn't, and I'm not sure which reaction has to potential to b-be worse."

Data couldn't help but agree. Had he been capable of fear, the prospect of conveying that truth might have terrified him.