Saving Thanehaven by Catherine Jinks

But we don’t fit into their reference matrix,” Rufus says as he suddenly halts. He squints down one of the passages, pushing his hair out of his eyes. “This must be it. The sign’s a bit hard to read, but I
think
it says ‘bridge.’ ”
    Noble is more interested in the gigantic creature that’s approaching them along the big tunnel. It’s a charcoal-gray cylinder as big as the AV’s van, with lashing tentacles and two gaping mouths, each of which is large enough to swallow him whole. Much to his alarm, it seems to be losing speed. But when he looks around to issue a warning, he sees that Rufus is already halfway down the nearest passage.
    Noble hurries after him. They stop in front of a closed door, which Rufus contemplates thoughtfully. Noble checks to see that the giant gray cylinder isn’t pursuing them.
    Luckily, it isn’t.
    “Hello?” Rufus directs his raised voice at the door. “Is anybody in there?”
    After a brief pause, someone behind the door says, “Who’s that?”
    “My name is Rufus. You don’t know me, but I’m here to save you.” When there’s no response—except an indistinct babble of whispers—Rufus adds, “Are you going to let me in, or what?”
    The door’s fleshy lips instantly peel apart, exposinga very large, low room, furnished with chair-shaped polyps sprouting from a spongy floor. The walls are almost transparent, studded here and there with glowing panels. The ceiling is laced with ducts that look like arteries. As for the occupants of the room, there must be about a dozen of them. Some are women with small children. Others are quite old, with gray hair and seamed foreheads.
    They don’t look like ideal reinforcements to Noble.
    “Who are you?” one of them asks him. “Why are you dressed like that?”
    Before Noble can reply, Rufus cuts in. “This is Noble, and he’s here to help.”
    “How?” says a tall, bony, balding man. With his bulbous eyes, long neck, and pointed chin, he looks a bit like an insect. “I don’t recognize either of you. Where are you from—Sustainability Services?”
    “No.” Rufus pulls a wry face. “We’re not part of the ship’s crew.”
    There’s a general gasp. One of the women, who’s dark and long-haired and incredibly beautiful, says,
“What?”
Beside her, a pasty young boy raises his hand.
    “Are you stowaways?” he inquires.
    “Nope,” Rufus tells him, “we’re just visitors. But we do know what’s going on.” A quick glance at Noble, however, causes him to amend this statement. “At least,
I
do.”
    The tallest member of the crew folds his arms. He has a gruff voice, craggy features, and a mane ofgray hair. “Then why don’t you enlighten us?” he says crisply.
    Rufus shrugs. “Okay. Well—let’s see. Your ship has passed through a freak energy wave, which has turned it into a living creature. And now its immune system wants to wipe you out, because you’ve been identified as a threat. So your plan is to head for the Biolab, where you think you might come up with a cure for the ship’s condition. But on the way, you want to collect as many crew members as you can before they get wiped out.” He surveys the dumbfounded expressions in front of him. “I don’t think I’ve missed anything, have I?”
    No one answers immediately. Then a small, pale, middle-aged woman with very short hair clears her throat. “H-how do you know all this?” she stammers.
    “Because it’s in the game directives.” Rufus’s tone is firm but sympathetic. “This isn’t really a spaceship. It’s a computer game. And you’re all subprograms.”
    This time, the shocked silence stretches on and on. One woman sits down abruptly. At last, the craggy-faced man croaks, “You’re mad.”
    “No. I’m telling the truth.” Rufus is beginning to sound impatient. “Come on, guys—where do you think
we
came from? Outer space?” He plucks at his shirt, which doesn’t look at all like the shiny, close-fitting garments on