The trio proceeded through front doors composed of heavy translucent synthetic composite that was more durable than the building materials for either the framing or the exterior walls. When Solae had fled the embassy she briefly caught sight of one such door still intact despite the multiple missiles that had left the rest of the structure in ruins. A superior once had told her it was one of the empire's psychological tricks; people assumed a clear surface was more fragile than one that was opaque, especially if the latter had the appearance of stone or alloy. When the general public tested and realized the strength of one silly door that was so unremarkable visually, they would (mistakenly) assume that the rest of the building was indestructible. The marquise had never cared for mind games of the bureaucracy but she had to concede it was very pragmatic. Under normal circumstances official outposts could have a welcoming entry way that signified the 'openness' of the Stellar Empire without compromising security, while at the same time bypassing a need to fortify every wall ten times over and driving up costs.

The communications center was unlocked and unguarded, but it took little time to understand why. The austere three-story building had become an unofficial meeting place for the myriad of San Roayo residents whose homes were destroyed by the typhoon. In the wake of their personal losses they sought not only shelter but information as to the known deceased and missing. A front reception desk was unmanned though it was unclear if it was because the employees who ordinarily sat there were casualties of the hurricane themselves, deployed to other areas of the island, or if they had simply decided that their job's protocol was no longer necessary. One small group, perhaps a family or the remnants of one, had pulled together the abandoned chairs and were quietly dozing in the empty space. The cluster was positioned directly next to a console that Solae knew to connect with other offices on the upper floors.

"This way," Julia whispered. The diplomat had failed to divulge that she had been in a very similar center, as the layout was identical on most planets, and let the middle-aged woman lead the way. With Damaris trailing behind as she looked about with wide-eyed wonder, they passed under an archway on the left, through a hallway with elevators decorated with abstract art meant to be as inoffensive as possible, and into a large room that compromised at minimum half of the first floor.

"It's huge!" the young girl gasped in delight.

Strewn all around were the survivors of the storm. Blankets, sheets, and other linens had been laid upon the floor in makeshift beds for adults and children alike. Long tables with integrated built in consoles, bolted to the ground for stability and to prevent theft, were arranged in rows perpendicular to the entrances to the room. Each console functioned as an access point for members of the populace who might utilize this room for its library or the transmission of mundane messages unable to be sent from their domiciles. These communal stations were at present largely ignored in favor of the screens on the north, east, and western walls that were vividly displaying the only broadcast anyone cared to watch: updates from rescue efforts across the continent. Those not starting at the names presented in high definition were murmuring to one another in sombre conversation, busying themselves with a quiet game or task, or napping if trauma had not made them insomniacs.

"This will take a while," Solae warned Julia, "I understand if you'd like to -"

"We're not leaving you here by yourself," was the quick retort. The tone of Julia's voice made it clear her decision was not subject to further discussion. "There are many people that could use a sympathetic ear or a shoulder to cry on here, and I've told you we know nearly everyone. You get the information you need and take as long as you like. Damaris and will make ourselves sociable. It's better than holing ourselves up in our home by ourselves."

"If you're certain," Solae agreed reluctantly.

"Come on, Damaris, I think I see Mr. and Mrs. Vasho over there," Julia declared with a warm parting smile. She proceeded further into the room and, even at a distance, the marquise could both hear and see one of the groups near the western wall exchange greetings before they embraced one another. Damaris bounced on her feet and loudly declared she bet that school would be cancelled for weeks as a result of the devastation. An elderly gentleman nearby started to guffaw that the first thing that came to mind for the raven-haired adolescent was freedom from lessons and homework.

With a sigh Solae tugged on the scarf concealing her hair and made her way to the nearest table as casually as possible. Fortunately no consoles were presently occupied with the exception of a pair near the opposite side of the room. She sat herself at a station directly opposite the main entryway so that the privacy partition would obscure her face from new arrivals. While a few people glanced her way, none were visibly suspicious about her identity. A stranger might have attracted more attention in other circumstances, but grief mitigated idle curiosity, and those who wished to be left alone were being granted the space to mourn. Solae's strategic placement limited who might be able to wander by without her notice; there were no citizens in proximity as gravitated towards the outskirts where there was unobstructed space and the wall screens. Solae prayed this buffer would be sufficient to keep her machinations secret.

The backlit console was almost as old as the marquise. Even though it was outdated, the interface was more user friendly than the units at the embassy, which had been produced for communications professionals with the luxury of an entire department dedicated to assisting them in navigating connected networks. Solae had the expertise necessary for a more complicated system but she was relieved that it was not required. After all their poor luck it was nice to have anything small working in their favor and making a task easier rather than more challenging. She activated the touch pad and her fingers glided across the screen as she keyed in her credentials. The console was too rudimentary for multiple tiers of security authorization. Fortunately this meant she would not have to announce her full name and status for vocal validation as was the case with the slaver's estate. After providing an identification number and three passwords she was given clearance to every archive available at this center.

Solae quickly lost track of time. Undoubtedly Julia realized it would not take over an hour to locate information for Rene's father, yet she did not interrupt, wander over, or question what the 'princess' was really doing that was so consuming. The external storage stick that Solae had brought with her and plugged into the console was not large enough for everything she wanted. Arguably this was because she was casting such a wide net: she was seeking every record, every transaction, every memo, every news article, every statistic, every negligible digital bit of evidence even tangentially related to three noble families. She was forced to compress files before copying them to her portable device, which meant not only was she taking the time to locate all the information she believed merited further review, she had to wait for it to be shrunk in size and then transferred. More than once the diplomat begrudgingly admitted to herself this investigation was overly ambitious.

She had nearly finished and was combing through business contracts of Rene's distant cousins when there was the soft ping of a new transmission. For the past couple hours she had been planted at the console updates for the deceased and missing list had been operating in the background silently. This notification meant that there was an incoming broadcast. Her digits momentarily froze where they hovered half an inch above the smooth surface of the screen. Her worst fears were realized when she selected the alert and maximized it on her screen. It took all of her considerable composure and training not to devolve into a hysterical mess. She had no weapon, no means to defend herself, and she was surrounded by people who not only had no loyalty to her, but were desperate beyond measure for any monetary relief that might help them reclaim their lives.

[i]It was too late to keep the bounty from being seen.[/i]

Her mind was racing so quickly she fumbled over executing the various commands she was rapidly inputting. While Solae could not undo what had already been done, she had the unique chance to lessen the impact. The first course of action was keeping the alert from been displayed on the walls that everyone else in the room were attentively watching. Once she had pulled it from circulation, she decided to throw a proverbial 'Hail Mary.' The linguist hurriedly added a clause that both Rene and herself had to be turned in together for any reward to be paid. This was not true, of course, but it would help protect either of them from being independently captured and traded to the coup's armies with expectation of compensation. Secondly, she changed both of the photos for anyone who had not already burned their faces into memory. For Rene she chose a photo of a marine of his approximate likeness but who had died two years ago. For herself she substituted in a picture of the Duke's niece when she had been going through a phase that culminated in dying her hair a soft silver.

Solae was banking on the fact no one was monitoring the bounty notices after they were distributed. There was no expectation that anyone would alter them, and even if they did anticipate her intervention, they would need to send someone to Panopontus before they could determine the extent of her creative editing. Her hands were shaking as she pressed a few buttons in succession, sending the revised notice back through the planetary network. Rene. She had to find Rene. She had to leave the communications center as soon as possible and find a way to flee to another world. They had tarried too long here and now it was just another deathtrap regardless of her efforts.

Yanking the storage stick out of the console she stood and, with a wave to Julia, started towards the exit.