Saving Thanehaven by Catherine Jinks Page B

and we
think
they look human because they’re messing with our heads!”
    Rufus flashes her an appreciative glance. “That’s good thinking, actually,” he concedes. “I mean, even if it’s not true, it’s good thinking.”
    “I’m not a giant bug,” Noble objects sourly. Rufus, however, hasn’t finished.
    “Look,” he argues, addressing the group as a whole, “if I was messing with your heads, I’d
lure
you out. I’d make you think you’d landed on some wonderful planet with strawberry-flavored oceans. Wouldn’t that be the smart thing to do?”
    After a long silence, Arkwright clears his throat. “Maybe,” he says, giving Rufus all the encouragement he needs.
    “This isn’t a trick,” Rufus promises. “I want to get you out of here. I believe in liberty for everyone.”
    “It’s true,” Noble confirms. “He does.”
    “Come on, guys, what’s to lose?” Rufus spreads his arms in a pleading gesture. “We’re still going to the Biolab. And we’ll get there in one piece, too, because I know how to keep you safe.”
    That
certainly gets a reaction. The atmosphere changes suddenly. Even Sadira seems interested.
    “How?” Quenby asks. And Dygall adds, “We don’t have any weapons.”
    “You don’t need weapons,” says Rufus. “All you need to do is change your appearance. Because if you incorporate bits of foreign programming, then you probably won’t trigger the subroutines in those killer cells out there. Get it?” Without waiting for confirmation, he nods at Arkwright’s feet. “Some of you can take off your boots, and … Noble? Why don’t you lend these guys your belt and your money pouch and your hauberk? Whatever you can spare.…”

CHAPTER EIGHT
    B y the time he leaves the bridge, Noble is wearing his breeches and nothing else.
    His belt, hauberk, tunic, cloak, flask, purse, and studded leather wristbands have been given to other people, with each member of the crew now dressed in a single item of borrowed clothing. Even Rufus is bare-chested, having surrendered his shirt and undershirt. One of his shoes has gone to Dygall, while the other is on the foot of the pasty child, who calls himself Yestin. According to Rufus, nobody needs an elaborate disguise. “All you’re trying to do,” he explains, “is distort your dimensions a tiny bit. It doesn’t have to be much of a change. Just enough to fool the program.”
    And the program
is
fooled—as they discover when they finally venture forth. They’re neither pursued norattacked. The giant gray creatures patrolling the ship simply pass them by, again and again. “It’s like we’re invisible,” Quenby murmurs in astonishment. “It doesn’t make sense.…”
    “Of course, it makes sense,” Rufus retorts. “It makes sense because Noble and I aren’t from this program.”
    But Quenby shakes her head. “I can’t believe that,” she protests. “I just can’t.”
    “I can,” Yestin pipes up.
    Noble says nothing. He’s had to process so much new information recently that he’s feeling a bit lightheaded. And he’s also becoming more and more annoyed by this crowd of feeble strangers. How on earth did he come to be shepherding them down a giant, monster-infested gullet dressed in nothing but his breeches? It doesn’t make sense.
    I don’t belong here
, he tells himself.
I belong back in Thanehaven, rescuing Princess Lorellina
.
    Then Yestin tucks a fragile hand into his and says, “Are you really a computer-game hero?”
    Startled, Noble peers down at him.
    “Because
I’m
not,” Yestin continues. “If this really is a computer game, no one would choose me as their avatar. But they’d definitely choose you. You look like a hero.” He cocks his head and stares at Noble with round blue eyes. “What game are you the hero of?”
    Noble searches his memory.
“Thanehaven Slayer,”
he declares at last.
    “Oh.” Yestin nods. “I haven’t played that. But I guess you must be the slayer, huh?”
    “Not