I took a minute to fix the errors and formatting, then dragged the email over to the tracking program. It was the same program the Patrol block had used, but I’d filed off the serial numbers and gone into the code to change the names of some labels.

I sent them a reply. We’d use their help if they were free.

I wasn’t even done with looking over the next entry when the Majors replied, excited and incomprehensible.

“How’s it going?” Tristan asked. He stood by a whiteboard. It looked like he was sketching out the prison complex. He’d worn the non-armor part of his costume beneath his jacket, and now had the skintight top and jeans. It wasn’t the textured pattern of the usual under-the-armor bodysuit, which would allow the texture to peek through the gaps between armor. It was just black.

He’d painted his hair again, though. Orange-red. Stiff rolls, curls and waves locked in place with glue-like hair product.

“We’re getting responses. People are talking about what they’re doing, they’ll fill us in if they get answers and they’ll open it up to the rest of us if they end up with questions. Do you know these kids, uh, Major Malfunctions?”

“No,” he said.

“Sveta?” I asked.

“Hm?” she looked up from her computer.

She looked nice. Beaded necklaces were looped around and below the more rigid part of the collar that was her neck. Her top was a very summery sort, a hooded crop-top that was torn, not cut, at the neck and sleeves. Tan with a bold blue-green lizard on it. Her pants were a little less loose and casual than her usual. Her wig was brushed and her tattoo at her cheek was left uncovered by makeup.

She’d gone shopping. A selfish part of me felt left out—I would’ve wanted to take her shopping, do that as a thing together, but Tristan had prodded her to talk about what was making her feel awkward, and clothes and body were apparently off the table.

Just business and safe topics then. “I wanted to ask if you were familiar with Major Malfunctions? They’re a team.”

“I don’t know them.”

“Okay. They’re hard to get a read on. Zero experience despite putting in the years. Odd histories.”

She nodded.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, heard from an old acquaintance, that’s all,” Sveta said, giving me a tight smile. She had to work her fingers into the right position before hitting the key combination to take her computer to the log-in screen. She shut the computer.

Not yeah, I thought.

“We can talk about it if you want.”

“Let me digest it first,” she said. “Catch me up?”

She and I both walked over to the point roughly between my setup and Tristan’s.