The Starfighters

20:01 Standard Time
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The Sun Beaches of the Outer Orbit
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International Cosmos Coalition's
Second Orbital Space Station
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Two men in their mid thirties are afloat in the cosmos around the Second International Space Station. Each of these men has devoted the majority of his life to becoming one of International Command's highly trained and incredibly specialized cosmonaut engineers. Each man has multiple Doctorates from Ivy League institutions, has memorized the Latin names of every known species on earth, is fluent in no less than four languages, and is about to be slaughtered in what will become the most feared way to die known to man. Fred even knew how to make a damn good burrito. I think that's what I will miss most about poor, about-to-die Fred, those scrumptious fucking burritos. The man knew Mexican Food.
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Ironically enough, it would be the Mexican food that Fred had lovingly cooked and presented to the crew of twenty-four (soon to be twenty-two) just three hours earlier (cosmos men eat on the early side) that would be the near-imminent death of him and poor Finnius.
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At 19:50 The men departed through the airlock and into the grandness of the Outer Orbit, as close to the sun as man could ever get. At 19:54 Finnius cracks a joke about Fred's Mexican Food. Fred retorts with a joke about Finnius' name. Both mens' feelings are secretly hurt.
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At 19:06 they have reached the external sensors of the station and have fallen to looking them over with the care of a mother nursing her young. To Fred, who has felt since the age of three that he is a man trapped in a woman's body, and that his highest calling is to nurse a pair of young with his own breasts, this comparison is not all that far off. He undoes his chest flap on his nano-hydraulic exosuit and pushes forward the moist teat of his oil bottle, stopping only when his dear child seems satisfied and well lubricated. Finnius looks on briefly in veiled disgust and then proceeds to initiate the program that would go through each of the scanners, testing first for hardware and software malfunctions, and then for their ability to carry out their vital roles on man's presence in space.

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The scanners have been working seemingly well, but the last few days they had been picking up on wavelengths they had not been assigned too. There was no real problem, just little aberattions and outliers popped up that could not possibly be true because they fit the profile of a different wave altogther. Or so the poor, foolish Finnius and Fred had thought. In fact, that had detected something most sinister.

"You know, Finnius, I don't really think that your name is dumb. It is a fine name, to be sure." Fred adjusts his pipe in his exosuit and blows a blast of smoke.

"Well Fred, I didn't mean what I said about your cooking either. I've never gotten sick from any of the burritos. That was an awfully mean joke and I wish I hadnt I saiden it t'all.

19:59 - Finnius poots.

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It isn't a loud poot at all, nay, it is a soft one, a deliacate celebration of anal wind, that carries not too much smell. However, it is just loud enough for Fred, whose face goes red (thinking of his food making poor Finnius ill, which believes now not to be a joke at all), to hear it. Well, him and the five hundred Fecelian Ass-Dasher class Ass-ault vessels parked on the far side of Uranus who have had their SennsoASSrs attuned to this general direction for days, that is.

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20:01

The two men are afloat in space. After Finnius' soft fart comes the terrible thunder of the flatulence of ten thousand bubonic death-crows, all farting at once. This sound is the Grand Admiral's second Fecelian Diarrheatic Navy approaching near the speed of light to rip the two men to shreds, anus first.

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20:01:30

The Fecelian navy, having arrived next to their prey, lock their small, poopish craft onto the terrified ani of the two cosmonauts with the large ivory claws that protrude from the ships, and thus begin to enlarge the mens' growing doodies with their terrible fecal based rays.

The stools, growing far too large for their anal home began pressing and heaving against the mens insides and, in but a moment, the two humans are nothing but deadly doo doo, from the inside out. They have been effectively exploded by their own waste, which they are now awash in.

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20:01:46

The Fecelian Conquest of Earth begans. Hold on to your butthole.