He was a big man from a small world.
He'd had a small life and small dreams and when they had been taken from him, his world had shrunk further. Shrunk to the size of a prison cell. His expectations were not much larger; a prison ship, a prison planet. A life without dreams.
"Kneel," the priestess had said and, diminished, he'd surrendered to his new life's limitations.
But Blake's words stirred memories of those small dreams...
"You can either fight or you can die."
... and how hard he had once fought to keep them. The big man, now resurrected, had taken his place by Blake's side.
He'd rationalised his decision to Jenna, spoke of needing people to survive. And he had needed these people, needed this surrogate family, needed Blake. But not to keep himself alive - to keep his dreams alive.
Oh, what dreams they had been.
The universe had stretched before him; vast, limitless in its potential and his mind, once contemplating gardens, had expanded to consider galaxies, had lifted from surveys of soil and seeds to think of solar systems and societies.
Better yet, what realities his dreams had become.
This single ship, this small crew, had been his gateway. He'd been with them as the ship pushed the boundaries of known technology, as the crew pushed the boundaries laid down by the Federation, as he pushed the boundaries of his knowledge and experience.
But the small man inside had remained.
He knew his limits; didn't need Avon to point them out. He knew his place; his mind maybe filled with stars but that left little room for ego or ambition. And he knew his worth; he was just a small man lost in a bigger battle, a big man buried in a pile of rocks and rubble.
"Go! I'm not worth dying for..."
And Blake had gone, taking his dreams with him.