Relic of the Cold War Part II

The low hum of ancient machinery filled the cramped control room, casting a dim glow over the flickering terminal. The air felt thick with the weight of urgency, as if the walls themselves were pressing down on Karl. He paced around, his boots tapping lightly against the metal floor, his mind a blur of conflicting thoughts. Every now and then, his eyes darted over to Axon, sitting stiffly in the corner, her pale face contorted in discomfort as she clutched her side. She hadn’t said much since they arrived, she hadn’t needed to. Her grim silence spoke volumes.

Karl glanced over at Spectral, who sat hunched over the terminal, his face scrunched in concentration. His fingers flew over the keys with practiced precision, though his brow was furrowed in frustration. The terminal screen was filled with rows of cryptic, ancient code, lines of characters that made little sense to the average person. But Spectral was no average person. Still, Karl could tell it was a battle, one that was going slowly.

“How’s it going?” Karl asked, breaking the stillness of the room. His voice sounded louder than usual, almost too loud for the quiet surroundings.

Spectral didn’t look up immediately. His eyes stayed locked on the screen, his fingers moving rapidly. “Still no good signs,” he muttered, his voice strained. “This system’s too old. It’s like trying to decipher a dead language. I can’t get a clear read on it.”

Axon, who had been staring at the floor with a distant gaze, nodded in agreement. Her face was flushed with feverish heat, and sweat glistened on her brow. The blood loss from her wound was taking a toll, though she didn’t show it, at least, not openly. Her strength was fading.

Karl watched them both for a long moment. He knew Spectral was struggling, but it didn’t take a genius to see Axon’s condition was worsening. Karl wasn’t a medical expert by any means, but he knew enough to know that prolonged blood loss could be fatal. And they had no idea how much time they had left.

“Anything I can help with?” Karl asked, though he wasn’t sure what he could offer. He was hardly a programmer, let alone someone who could decipher a system as old as the one they were dealing with.

Spectral glanced up at him, irritation in his eyes, but it softened quickly when he saw Karl’s genuine concern. “I don’t know if you’d be able to, Karl,” he said, his tone more resigned than sharp. “This system’s different. It’s written in some ancient language. Hell, it’s barely functional.”

Karl frowned, but his thoughts flashed back to his father’s old equipment. The man had been obsessed with computers, particularly the old ones. There were always parts scattered across their house, machines that seemed like relics from another age. Karl’s father had never quite let go of those archaic systems, he’d found a way to make them work, and he’d taught Karl a few things over the years, things that Karl had never really understood at the time. He’d watched his father write lines of code, running diagnostics, tinkering with old machines.

“Assembly?” Karl repeated. “I’ve seen some of this before. My father worked with old computers like these.”

Spectral raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. “You? A computer guy?”

Karl nodded slowly, walking over to the screen. “Yeah, I didn’t understand it all, but... I learned a little. It’s been a while, but I think I remember enough to help.” He stepped closer, scanning the screen. “This part of the code, right here... this looks like assembly syntax.”

Spectral’s fingers slowed for a moment, and he glanced over at Karl, then back at the screen. “You’re serious? You can read this?”

Karl hesitated, then nodded. “It’s like... a mix of my father’s notes and old programming books he used to have. I never got into it, but he explained the basics to me. Computers back then used binary systems not like today’s stuff.”

Spectral leaned back in his chair, studying Karl with a skeptical but intrigued expression. “I thought you didn’t know anything about this kind of work.”

Karl shrugged, feeling slightly out of place, but he continued. “It’s not exactly high-level programming. It’s like... a lost art, I guess. But I know a few things. I think I can help get this thing to work.”

Spectral didn’t say anything immediately. Instead, he stared at Karl, then the terminal, then back at Karl. Finally, he exhaled sharply. “Alright. If you’re sure, then go ahead. I could use a hand.”

Karl leaned over the terminal, studying the lines of code. It was as if his father’s lessons suddenly came rushing back to him, the cryptic language of assembly becoming less foreign with each passing second. He muttered the syntax under his breath, guiding his fingers as he typed carefully.

Spectral watched, still silent, though his eyes flicked between Karl and the screen. “I’ll be damned,” he muttered under his breath.

“It’s coming together,” Karl said, half to himself. “It’s just a matter of understanding the structure.”

For a while, it was quiet except for the clicking of keys and the occasional murmur from Spectral, who was no longer typing but instead observing Karl’s work. He glanced at Axon now and then, checking her condition. The color had drained from her face, and she had slumped in her chair, her breathing shallow.

Spectral spoke again after a long pause. “Your dad... he must have been something else. To teach you all this stuff.”

Karl hesitated, glancing at Axon. “He was. He didn’t take the time to teach me everything, but he did his best. I... I miss him.”

There was a long pause before Spectral spoke again, this time in a more serious tone. “I had a different kind of dad. One that I don’t miss at all.”

Karl turned his head to look at him, surprised by the change in Spectral’s demeanor. “What do you mean?”

Spectral’s face tightened, and his gaze dropped to his hands, resting on the edge of the desk. “He was abusive. When I was a kid, he killed my mother right in front of me... and then he left me to rot on the streets.” His voice was strained, but his eyes didn’t show the pain. “Victor found me when I was at my lowest. Took me in, taught me how to survive. He’s the reason I’m here.”

Karl didn’t know what to say. The silence between them grew, heavy with the weight of Spectral’s words. He’d never expected this kind of vulnerability from the man who usually kept his emotions buried so deep.

“I’m sorry,” Karl finally managed to say, his voice sincere. “I didn’t know.”

Spectral gave a curt nod. “Most people don’t. But I’m not here to talk about my past. Let’s just get this system working so we can get out of here.”

Karl nodded, his fingers still moving over the keys. As the minutes ticked by, the code began to make more sense. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Spectral let out a breath of relief.

“I’m in,” he said, his voice calm and satisfied.

Karl stepped back, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. “Good. Now, let’s get Axon back on her feet.”