Story Orphans. Finish any way you want. Please, just mention in the disclaimer that you started with a story orphan whose first paragraph or so was written by Anna McLain. This is to avoid you being accused of plagiarism.

1. Dylan caressed the damp blue hair back from her snow-covered cheeks. As her 
eyelids fluttered, he thought she could still see him, felt the nudge of hope 
that she might survive. Then Rommie's dark eyes closed and her body fell limp, 
chilled and still. Was there still time? Damn Trance, where was the Andromeda?

2. The warm water surged, churned, and slapped him under. He choked, lungs slowly filling. Clawed. Fought. Desperate for air. Effervescent bubbles, kicked up by the living water, tickled and mocked him. He kicked. Broke free. Air surged into him like hope and answered prayers. He laughed in relief. But the water was not finished.

3. Dylan was frantic. Rommie couldn't be dead. But with the Gravalls overrunning the supply base in swarms, she had to be. He stumbled over a fallen body and fell to his knees. His force lance flew from his fingers. He scrabbled for it with one bruised and bloodied hand. Who would've known a simple supply run would go so bad. 

A noise behind him made him whirl, still on his knees. A snickering Gravall towered over him. Dylan kicked out. The Gravall grunted but didn't fall. His groin, after all, was in a different place. 
"Crap," Dylan muttered. He scooted backward, crab-like. His fingertips touched his force lance. He snatched it up, swinging it around and firing at the Gravall in one fluid motion. The creature flew backward in a shower of sparks and shattered exoskeleton. 

Dylan sat, breathing heavily, recovering. His mind raced. Where was Rommie? Had he lost her forever without telling her how he really felt about her? The last time he had seen her, she was in the distance, haloed in golden light, desperately fighting off a mass of insect-like Gravall. She went down, buried beneath the writhing mass. Pain lanced his middle again at the thought. Tears welled at the corners of his blue eyes. He had wanted to save her--to tear the bastards limb from limb from limb to rescue her. But, there were too many. He found himself running for his life. Now here he was...alone. 

4. The woman bent over Dylan's prone form, her glimmering waist-length orange hair falling in soft sheets around him. She leaned closer, her lips descending to his. Her lithe body pressed close to his, one leg inserted between his black-uniformed knees. 

"Get off of him," Rommie growled, teeth bared and eyes blazing. Her chin was raised haughtily, her back slightly arched, force lance aimed directly at the woman's middle so she couldn't possibly hit Dylan with the blast. "He's mine." 

The redhead chuckled, a soft yet menacing sound. She sat up very slowly, running long-nailed fingers over Dylan's body as she did so. 

Rommie breathed heavily with impatience. 

Sitting upright, the woman suddenly whirled to face the avatar. Her brown eyes were abnormally wide, pupils white. She bared huge fangs and hissed at Rommie. "Not anymore, stupid woman. He's mine now." Her delirious laughter echoed through the dilapidated warehouse. 
Rommie took a step back in horror. She fired. The woman fell back, a hole in her stomach. Then, she sat up, cackling and launched herself at the avatar, flying through the air. Dylan lay unconscious behind her. 

5. Slowly, she swung back and forth with her long tail munching on a piece of turquoise fruit and enjoying the view. Shore leave was only three hours old. She found the panorama of white sand and verdant water refreshing, the steady beat of the waves mingled with the laughter of her friends, relaxing. She smiled as she watched Harper catch Beka unaware and toss a small bucket of chilly water over her blond head. Beka leapt to her feet screaming about tans and retribution then chased the small man down the beach. 

Trance sighed in contentment. There was nothing quite like a shoreline and a few good friends. Then she heard a distant noise, a deep basso rumbling. Searching out the source, she saw puffy, angry gray clouds building on the horizon. 

A storm was coming. 

6. Trance crooned to one of her favorite ferns. She caressed its downy blue leaves and smiled. 
Abruptly, the Andromeda Ascendant lurched and she was tossed to the floor. A loud BONG sounded in the hallway beyond the door to Hydroponics. 

The ship steadied. Trance gained her feet and ran to investigate. 

Harper lay face down on the floor of the corridor, his spiky hair still pressed against the metal wall. His eyes were closed. Three feet above him was a shallow dent. Trance gasped. 

Harper didn't move.

7. "I'll cover you!" Harper shouted to Trance. 

The purple alien ducked behind him, tucking her tail close to her body. "Who are they?" 

Harper shook his head, firing off another round from the Force Lance he held. "Try to take over the Andromeda, eh? Take that you ugly buggers!" He fired again this time with his Pulse Pistol. 

One of the aliens returned fire. The wall next to them exploded in a shower of sparks. Trance squealed in pain. Harper glanced over his shoulder, cursed, and fired salvo after salvo with Force Lance and Pulse Pistol. The aliens retreated to regroup. 

Harper turned and fell to his knees. "Trance?" he whispered to her still form. "No, NO!" He patted her cheeks. When she did not rouse he lifted her gently into his arms and made a mad dash for medical, praying the way was clear.

8. Harper squirmed as Trance slowly applied the colors to his face. He now wore a rainbow across his forehead, nose and cheeks. 

"Stop wiggling," Trance said, "you're going to smear it. It has to dry." 

"Who cares? This is stupid!" 

Trance scowled. "You're going to have fun. I know you will. There will be women at the party." 

His eyebrows raised. "Still, I have to dress up like this?" 

"We all do." 

"But, with girly rainbow colors?"

9. Why? 

That was her only question. Why did the Balance of Judgment have to take over Gabriel? Why did she have these roiling emotions? Why couldn't she lay the pain to rest? Rev Bem told her that pain was like water. It belonged to the Most High. But she was an Artificial Intelligence, not flesh and blood. Could her pain belong to the Most High when she might not herself? Do androids go to Heaven? 

She stared around the Hydroponics bay, pondering the nature of the universe and the life in the room with her. The rest of the crew was asleep. Rommie never slept. She did not need to. Touching the delicate mauve leaves of a streaming plant, her internal sensors recorded its texture, scent, weight and myriad other details. In her own way, she felt the leaf. Yet, she felt as distant from it as from the time of her creation. Even this simple plant had life, life given by the Most High. What about her? 

Why was she alive? Why?

10. "For years, I felt dirty, like I couldn't wash enough." His whisper echoed throughout the cramped room. "Salvation isn't cheap nor easy and attonment is like water through your fingers." 

She leaned forward, an intent statement on her young and innocent face. She longed to reached out, to comfort him with a touch, but was afraid he would recoil from her. So she let him pour out his soul. 

"So much death ... starvation ... desolation. They say there is no horror like mankind. I say there is no horror like chaos ... for in chaos all things are possible." His head bowed into his hands and wept without sound. 

She rocked back on her heels and let her gaze roam over the spartan quarters because his pain was too horrible to watch.

11. He awoke screaming, nightmare zombies clutching at him. His pajama top clung to his sweat drenched skin, ensnaring him like a straight jacket. He shrieked again, not fully awake. The previous night's round of Halloween stories weighed heavily on him. 

Furiously, he kicked at the dark blue sheet, wrapped tightly around his ankles. He fell out of bed and hit the floor hard. 

He screamed again. 

A flicker of light in the air next to him coalesced into the form of a petite brunette with a serious statement. When she saw him, she rolled her eyes.

12. She watched him sleep. Unconscious, he no longer looked cocky, or defensive or desperate. He wasn't scowling, or inferior or trying to be sexy. He didn't stress his genius. He was free to be untouched by his past. 

She brushed back his wild hair from his clammy forehead, wondering what he would think if he knew she touched him so tenderly.

13. Harper let the downpour wash the sweat and dirt from his face. Bright blood from a deep scratch beside his eye trailed down his cheek to drip from his unshaven chin. It figured that it would rain on this, his rare shore leave. Still, the rain felt good as it washed away the grime and the memories of the past few Hellish hours. 

He was finally home free. He had escaped. He had lost his pursuers and made it to the outskirts of the dank Spaceport. Ships roared into the low angry clouds every few seconds, their afterburners shaking his ribcage with their songs. 

He sighed, eyes closed, letting the exhaustion drain from his muscles. 

Behind him, he heard the click-click of an ancient revolver being cocked. His breath caught in his throat. His eyes flew wide open in fear.

14. She covered her ears. The noise threatened to explode her brain. Scratching. Screeching. A million rat-like metallic claws on the hull. The cacophony, a maelstrom. The Andromeda Ascendant jerked, buffeted by the attacking swarm. 

Worst of all was the noise. 

It made her nauseous. Bruised. Dizzy. Irate. 

Anger alone made her find her feet and charge toward Command, thrusting herself from wall to wall as the ship lurched. 

Tumbling around a corner, she tripped, fell, skinned her palms and kicked out at the offending soft body. 

"Hey!" Harper yelped. 

15. Beka squinted against the glare of the exploding supernova. It was blinding, despite the distance. 
She turned to Tyr while its brilliance still shown. His face, in profile, practically glowed, reflecting the glory of the sun's passing. 

She shivered, unable to control the longing and loneliness that ran through her. She grew closer to this crew everyday, closer to him. 

He turned then and caught her staring. She raised her eyebrows in defiance. One corner of his mouth turned up in a grin. 

"Magnificent," he whispered. 

"Absolutely."

16. I slip and slide through life as the sand pours down on my head.  

17. He laughed so hard that his stomach seized and he fell backward onto the floor. Snorting and gasping, he took the hand offered him. 

18. The baby held it out to her. It squirmed, but could not escape. She met the child's eyes, silently pleading for the creature's release. 

19. The barking echoed, sharp, deep, painful to the ears. She wanted to flee, to bolt. But, she was caught. Closer, closer, they came. She quivered in terror. 

20. Nip. Nip. Their tiny bites skewered him with pain. He tried to ignore the thousands of tiny legs scurrying over his bare limbs. Tried to wish away the burning pain of the infinitesimal wounds. But could not. He was securely tied. 

21. Sleeping, the babe is so serene. Angelic. Even the sharp songs of the evening birds aren't waking him. What a surprise. If I rock him longer, I'll drift off to sleep myself. Funny, I never imagined I'd be here like this. How did I get here? 

22. The warm water surged, churned, and slapped him under. He choked, lungs slowly filling. Clawed. Fought. Desperate for air. Effervescent bubbles, kicked up by the living water, tickled and mocked him. He kicked. Broke free. Air surged into him like hope and answered prayers. He laughed in relief. But the water was not finished. 

23. She turned and the sun gleamed from her swept up hair. She looked so radiant, so vibrant. He forgot to breathe.  

24. Hands so soft. Bodies so close. Music so haunting. It turns me around until I lose myself.