Chapter eight: Weirdness

I'm back! It's explained in here about Scarecrow and his little flaw, kind of, you know he's likely to not tell the *whole* story. Also, keep this in mind: he was the trial and error, so things happen. I haven't quite yet decided how I'm gonna resolve that situation. Oh, yeah, so my little vacation didn't last as long as I thought it would, oh well.

"So, it seems that a massive dose of psychic energy has shorted out his ability to read minds and therefore his ability to talk?" Dylan mused for the sake of talking. He was ignoring the part that told him we were escapees from the local nuthouse. The captain surveyed the red mage's body tightly gripping Andromeda's wiring. He'd ordered Ken into the room and the younger human boy had not been happy about it.

"What would cause that?" Trance wondered a little distractedly and took a few steps closer to Scarecrowmon, who immediately released his hold on the ship and levitated very quickly skyward and silently and almost fearfully wedged himself into a corner.

"Hmm," the alien muttered. "I think we have our answer. Tell me, did you try and read my mind while we were on the Maru?"

Scarecrowmon didn't answer, but looked away like a dog listening to a high- pitched sound.

She smiled a little sadly and dryly, "I think we have our answer."

She thought for a minute and then said, "I think I'll stay at one end of the Andromeda and he'll be at another at any given time. That *should* help and if it doesn't, drop me off at the nearest planet."

She left the room in a big hurry and Scarecrowmon seemed to relax a little.

Dylan turned to Harper and asked, "Could you rig up something that could interpret his thoughts?" Apparently, the kid was some kind of technological genius and could do stuff like that.

Harper shook his head, "No. I'm a genius and I'm a good lookin' one at that, but I'm not a miracle worker."

Scarecrowmon looked up and slightly off to the right as if he was counting something in his head. Then he flung himself on the floor and started scrawling again.

"Someone get him to stop that!" Rommie hissed angrily.

"What's he writing?" Wormmon asked, scratching an antenna.

Harper scanned the chicken scratch and the accompanying picture, "It's a schematic."

Kens stared t him blankly, "Of what?"

"I don't have a clue, but I'll get to work on making it."