“What logs? Which suit?” Foster asked, adjusting his goggs around his helmet. He’d fixed every one of those suits so often, he knew every inch of them. There was no way he would’ve missed a weird entry like that. “That suit you have in the corner of the armory. I was trying to see if I could patch it for a backup, but the code is seriously scrambled. Looks like it was a bad update on a race day, and then someone tried to erase it or something.” Foster froze.
