Bright light was not welcome in the Anemoi, and yet here it was. 

The main walkway through the ship opens up briefly into a large room with heavy industrial spotlights, perpetually shuttered. Ordinary menials scurry though it, eyes downcast and nervous even though of all the rooms on the ship this was potentially the safest for them. The Kaeri did not venture here unless they had to, taking high and circular routes through the ship to avoid it. They were here now.

Each of them sat still upon the ground in the radiant glare of the spotlights. In front of each of them was a nameplate. Here, shorn of motion, weapons, ferocity the Kaeri seemed small and helpless - slender creatures, fragile, perhaps even cute in their way. This was punishment and penance. They had failed to secure the princess and as a consequence they were to be shorn of their strength and made vulnerable before lowly creatures that had previously feared them. All of their instincts ached against this, against being here, but they remained. 

Crew moved through the room hurriedly, eyes downcast, fearing their masters even in their vulnerability. Some still were curious enough to steal glances, and each act of courage hit the Kaeri like axe blows. Their instincts wielded the whip as they silently committed themselves again and again to not failing next time.

*

The corpse of the former Emperor was laid out in state by Ivory Smile, high priest of Hades. He had carved a stone head to replace the one that had been lost, beard braided in marble, lip containing a twist of savagery that no thoughtful brow could erase. Good work. 

He'd done his best to conceal the surgical scars. The Kaeri had been overwhelmed in their shame and self-fallegation so they had not been able to keep the White Surgeon away from the body. An Imperial corpse was a treasure-trove of raw material - exactly what was needed to rebuild a weapon like Captain Lorventi - and the Surgeon was ever foolish enough to brave the displeasure of the gods and Empress for her craft. 

It fell to Ivory Smile to clean the wounds, say the prayers, and restore dignity to the fallen. But even so, his discretion advised him against giving the Emperor a military funeral or Imperial burial. This wretched, broken, lice-ridden body did not tell the tale of a man who had died as either warrior or emperor, and there were no weeping crowds or bereaved soldiers mourning his passage. Although a quiet ceremony over a mangled corpse should have felt like an affront to a creature that ruled the galaxy, something in the priest made him feel like this was more than anything an act of charity.

*

What was he supposed to do with this? He sent them to find him a navigation computer and they came back with a severed head! Urgh! [i]Warriors![/i] 

One might think that the Evokers of the Order of Hermes would be at least sympathetic to those who engaged in conflict professionally. Nothing could be further than the truth. His job was to [i]destroy [/i]things. Distance, formations, ships, planets if necessary. The craft and science of unmaking, deconstructing things in controlled ways that yielded necessary resources and outputs. Warriors were amateurs, idiots tromping around in his laboratory and this severed head was the proof. Cut three inches lower and he would have had a major cyanronode to work with! Now he had to improvise a solution from scrap he had on hand! 

"And you were the most incompetent of all of them!" snapped the Hermetician Iskarot at the severed head of Molech. "You replicated the oldest mistake in the galaxy! You created a daughter who rose up and struck you down! This is the foolishness of a man who creates an implement of destruction for [i]its own sake[/i]."

The head blinked at him miserably and Iskarot buzzed at it irritably. This was fine, it'd keep. There was enough star-lane data in that skull to keep them moving for now. The support apparatus was crude and ungainly but that was all it needed to be. Over-engineering was what had caused all of these problems to begin with.