The solar flare was utterly enormous. It was the kind of flare that made interplanetary shipping companies glad they had insurance. It was the kind of flare that made insurance companies raise the rates on space clones to cover the loss. It was the kind of flare that made the space clones who were unlucky enough to be in space at the time of the flare hope that they bought the farm straight off instead of dying slowly in a disabled ship.
    "I, the 92nd clone of the Jenna series, being of sound mind make the final dispossession of my estate as follows:
    "To the TransVenus Shipping Line, which will confiscate my possessions for breach of contract because of my dying on duty, I hereby bequeath the knowledge that it's buried under a rock on Mars. Good luck finding it, boys.
    "To the Lunar Cloning Institute, which is responsible for creating Malcom.3, I leave this bit of advice: Take the Malcom DNA profile and shove it up your-"
    "I did it!" Malcom.3 shouted as he turned from the navigation computer console.
    "I know I'm probably going to regret asking this but here goes. Did what?"
    "I reset the NavCom!"
    "I don't believe it! You're not useless after all! We're not going to die!"
    "I didn't say that," Malcom.3 said sheepishly. "I  only said I reset the NavCom. We're still going to die."
    "But you first, I think. With my finger prints on your throat! What do you mean we're still going to die? If you've reset the computer it will plot a new course so we can be recovered."
    "Yes, well, the thing is the NavCom tells me that no course adjustment is necessary."
    "Make sense for once in your in your babbling life! If the computer doesn't alter our course we'll just glide through space until we collide with something. In several billion years or so."
    "That's the thing, you see. It says that it's calculated a course to Venus but it hasn't made any adjustment to our trajectory."
    "When will I ever learn," sighed Jenna.92. "The three most certain methods of death are: First, go to an Earth village near an erupting volcano and proclaim yourself to be a virgin; second, be five seconds late paying you existence tax; third and my personal favorite, put you life in the hands of a freighter tech whose cloning series was discontinued after three copies because not one of them had the mental capacity of a Martian sand flea!"
    "That's not true," Malcom.3 pouted. "They stopped the series because Malcom.2 accidentally left the airlock on Ceres without his space suit. It could have happened to anyone."
    "Anyone with the brain of a cargo tech! Why don't you follow family tradition and jump out the airlock and save me a little oxygen?"
    "You android techs think you're so much smarter than everyone. If you're such hot stuff why don't you get one of your precious computerized janitors to help?"
    "Janitors! I'll have you know this old garbage scow of yours is carrying the most sophisticated, most intelligent, most mind bogglingly expensive android ever created in the history of...that's it! Jarvis has a human logic circuit! He can make that half-wit computer of yours see reason.

    "Ah, yes. Quite satisfactory," Jarvis said as he got up from the NavCom. "Anyone for tea?"
    "What do you mean 'quite satisfactory'", Malcom.3 protested. "You haven't done anything yet."
    "No action on my part is required," Jarvis said cheerfully. "When the computer was reset it automatically plotted a return trajectory using the available gravitational fields. The ship will loop around Mercury and return to Venus in eight months giving the Company ample time to send out a recovery vessel to tow us in."
    "I have noticed just one tiny flaw in your reasoning," Jenna.92 said with an annoyance level bordering on androcide.
    "Have you really? How uncharacteristic of me," Jarvis looked hurt.
    "Considering the fact that this ship only has enough food and oxygen to last for three months I, and much less importantly Malcom.3, will be quite dead by the time we reach Venus!"
    "Yes, I am aware of that but still, It's rather a minor inconvenience as such things go."
    "A minor inconvenience! Malcom.3 shouted. "Inconvenient for who!"
    "The Company of course. You two will have to be replaced but, on the cheery side, two low grade technician clones like yourselves can be replicated for less than 5,000 Lunar Yen."
    "What about your human logic circuit?" Jenna.92 asked eagerly.
    "Rather a nice one, I think."
    "I mean why can't we use it to replace the damaged one in the NavCom?"
    "I hardly think it advisable," Jarvis sniffed with contempt. "You would have to destroy the rest of my brain to get it out. Imagine destroying the the most sophisticated brain in the solar system in order to save two mere clones. It's unthinkable!"
    "Wait one minute!" Malcom.3 screamed. "We're still humans even if we are clones! You're nothing but a machine! You have to sacrifice yourself to save us - it's some kind of law of robotics or something!"
    "Have you been reading 20th century novels again?" Jenna.92 asked derisively. "All real world androids are given the prime directive to be cost effective to their owners at all times."
    "Well," Malcom.3 said despondently, "where does this leave us?"
    Jarvis cleared his artificial throat. "I think I mentioned tea before? A nice cup of chamomile would be just the thing, don't you think?"
    "Soothing enough to keep us from dying a slow three month death?" Jenna.92 inquired.
    "Yes, quite so." Jarvis said happily.
    "Have you blown your voltage regulator?"
    "Not at all, ma'am. You see, all medical units aboard interplanetary ships are equipped with cyanide capsules for just such contingencies and, well..."
    "How positively thoughtful of you, Jarvis," Jenna.92 smiled. "Why don't you go back to the galley and fix it up for us."
    "Delighted, ma'am," Jarvis purred as he left them alone.
    "Are you really going to let that tin can on legs feed you rat poison?"
    "Of course not. At least not until I'm sure we can't fix the NavCom. I had to get rid of Jarvis long enough to figure out a way to get his logic circuit away from him."
    "Why not deactivate him again?"
    "No good. Even when his main circuit is inactive his self defense mode is still active and he's much stronger than both of us put together."
    "Well, I don't know anything about androids, but if there's a way to fix this computer I'll find it."
    "Hope and lunacy spring eternal."
    "Why don't you make use of that degree in android psychology you're always bragging about."
    "Because Jarvis' human logic circuit makes him more human than your average space tech. Android psychology is lost on him."
    "Thanks," Malcom.3 uttered uncomprehendingly as he renewed his link with the NavCom.
    "Anything happening?"
    "It's picking up a television signal. It's watching the Venusian Political Olympics."
    "Great! It's not only insane it's also stupid!"
    Jarvis returned to the bridge with a cart containing a tea service and some pastries.
    "Where did you find all that?"
    "It was in one of the shipping containers accompanying me. They're some of the things my employer sent for but I thought, well, this is a very special occasion isn't it?" Jarvis grinned sweetly.
    "Oh, yes! We humans only die once you know. Any excuse for a tea party when you're about to snuff it."
    "Well said, ma'am, well said. Shall I pour?"
    "Please do. I've noticed you've brought three cups. Having a little trouble adding one plus one?"
    "Hardly, ma'am. I thought it would be only polite to join you since we're not likely to get another chance."
    "An android that drinks tea? What will they think of next!"
    "Oh, yes. All of us top of the line models eat and drink. But only the best of course!"
    "Of course. None of the space swill they feed us clones for you androids. We wouldn't want to gum up your diodes with our peasant gruel, now would we."
    "Hardly, ma'am. We're programed to be as discerning as anyone with enough money to pay for our services."
    "And foresighted enough to bring your own supply of pastries, I see."
    "The most exquisite products of the Lunar Bakery. Would you like one?" Jarvis looked at it hungrily and didn't seem the slightest bit inclined to part with it despite his offer.
    "Maybe in a bit. I'd better see if I can pry Malcom.3 away from the NavCom." Which she promptly did by grabbing the first available ear she came across.
    "Ouch!"
    "Malcom, dear. Come have tea and pastries with us."
    "Who are you calling 'Malcom, dear?' What have you been...ouch!"
    "Listen, you bean brain." Jenna.92 whispered in his ear as she wrenched it 90 degrees. "I'm trying to find an angle to work against this android, capiche? Play along and let me talk to him."
    "It looks like he's rather more interested in stuffing his metal face than talking to you. But then who wouldn't be, even with the tea laced with cyanide. Ouch!"
    Jenna.92 turned the ear one last time for emphasis and then turned to Jarvis who was indeed entirely engrossed upon consuming the pastries and tea.
    "Too bad cyanide doesn't effect androids. All of our problems would be solved if it did."
    "Look at him wolfing down those things!"
    "That's it! That's his weakness! We've just got to figure a way to work his gluttony against him."
    "How? Is it possible to poison an android?"
    "No but there's more than one way to skin a robot."
    "Huh? Ouch!"
    "I've got it!"
    "I know you've got it! Let go!"
    "No not that. Oh, sorry," reluctantly letting go of Malcom.3's ear. "I mean I've figured out how to get his head!"
    "How?"
    "The old fashioned way, we chop it off!"
    "Very medieval. Good thing all TransVenus freighters are equipped with guillotines, isn't it. Ouch!"
    "Look, being sarcastic is my department. We don't need a guillotine when we've got an A.D.P.F.T."
    "A what?"
    "An automated door power failure tool."
    "A what?"
    "An ax!"
    "Oh! Good thinking."
    "I know it! Okay, go get it."
    "Not so good thinking. It's your idea, why don't you do it?"
    "Because I'll be keeping him occupied while you do the honors. And because if it doesn't work he's bound to become just a touch homicidal and go after the one with the ax first. Okay?"
    Malcom.3's expression made it very clear that it wasn't okay but with his ear still smarting he felt it would be wise to comply. Trying to be casual was not one of his strong suits which became readily apparent as he whistled out of tune and sidled over to the compartment which held the implement in question. Meanwhile, Jenna.92 found that no diversion was necessary as Jarvis was opening yet another container of dainties. Removing the ax, Malcom.3 suddenly found the limit of his ability to be casual. How does one, he wondered, casually creep up behind an android with an ax and lop it's head off? A withering glare from Jenna.92 was the only answer he got to his unspoken question. At a loss as to how to approach Jarvis with even a glimmer of subtlety, he let out a blood curdling yell and dashed up to his victim swinging the ax in a wide arc. Fortunately for Jarvis, his hearing was acute enough to initiate a defensive response without turning to look. Unfortunately for Jarvis, The response was to raise his right arm into the path of the ax which promptly severed it amidst a spray of blue sparks.
    "Uh oh," Malcom.3 summarized his anxiety at this turn of events.
    "Damn!" Jenna.92 elaborated.
    The odd thing was Jarvis' response to the attack. Ignoring the loss of his right arm, he redoubled his efforts with his left and never took his eyes off of his snacks. Taking courage, Malcom.3 wound up and took another swing at the android. The same defense but with a different arm brought the same results. Confronted with the loss of his last remaining arm, Jarvis plunged his face into the plate and continued eating with reckless abandon.
    "Well this is just pathetic! How am I supposed to cut his head off while he's up to his ears in eclairs?"
    "Just do it! Think of what he's going to do to you when the sweets run out, arms or no arms!"
    Taking his cue from the thought of having his limbs gnawed off by the android's overactive teeth, he let fly with the ax again. This time there was no defense, the head was severed. The robotic body slumped to the floor and the head lolled about in the pastries munching away it's final seconds of sentience before finally becoming still. Malcom.3 felt noxious. Jenna.92 picked up the android's sugar coated head and looked at it with interest.
    "Alas, poor Jarvis. I knew him well. This is our ticket back to Venus. This is our ticket to a long - or at least a longer life!"
    "But how much longer? We've just destroyed the most expensive android in the solar system and we just barely make enough to pay our existence tax as it is."
    "Ah, Malcom.3. Your brain is tiny but it makes a valid point. If we tell TransVenus what we did, well, we may as well finish off the cyanide tea party. No, we're going to have to do some thinking on this problem. And when I say we I mean me!"
 

    To be continued...