I  headed downstairs and decided to head to the cargo hold, I'd noticed there was some space in there during my earlier exploration. Also more privacy than the Ready Room.

I took off my robes and set them down--no point getting them dirty with sweat. The air here was not cold, my chest band would be enough. I moved to the centre of the hold. I started by stretching carefully. It was ironic, to ease the anger I felt about the Empire legalizing slavery, and the painful memory of my sisters, with the very skill I'd been forced to master as a slave.

I had loved dancing, as a child. I'd been told I had a gift for it. There had even been a time I'd dreamed of being a professional. It was like speaking with your body and soul. Pouring your heart out in sweat. It was a way to say what could not be said with words. I'd loved it.

But I could not love it when I wore the collar. I had buried my feelings deep, so they could not hurt me, and so the dance had been empty. Without meaning. There had been no more passion in the steps than when I walked.

Even after I had been freed by my Master, I had not danced. Not for a very long time. It had been part of one big, long, bad memory. But then, by chance, I had seen a performance in the streets and my heart had ached. I'd already lost years of my life. I could not let them take dance, too.

So I had tried dancing again. And at first, it had hurt. Every step, every stance, dredged up emotions I had numbed myself to… memories I'd buried and forgotten. But I'd stubbornly continued, and found myself channelling all the emotion into the dance. It had been raw, bitter sweet and therapeutic. I'd danced until I could barely stand. Master had scolded me afterwards, but he hadn't interrupted.

I closed my eyes, and took a deep breath. I found the source of my anger and the memory of pain, and began the dance. The loss of my sisters was an old wound. I had accepted their death, and my failure, but Wolfe's revelation had brought it back to the surface. Deep down I'd never truly forgiven myself. How could I? I'd promised. But I realized the pain was sharp again because it was not mine alone. I felt myself mourning for the hundreds, thousands, perhaps millions, that would suffer. For the families who would lose children, siblings and parents. And then there was the anger. Anger at those who would allow such an evil practice back into the Galaxy. Who would subject countless innocents to undeserved cruelty. It was unforgivable.

~Aayla dances an improvised and wild dance for a while.~

Half an hour later I sat down, panting. It had been a while since I'd danced so intensely. I lay back on the floor and gave myself a few minutes to recover my breath, enjoying the sensation of my muscles screaming for air.

Finally I stood. I needed some water. I hadn't realized how parched I was until the water hit my throat. I gulped it down. Refreshed,  got on the lift and went up to the cockpit.

"How goes the flight? Still on track?" I asked as I stepped off the lift.