Spore

Mother suspended herself in the upper stratosphere. Manifest in many brilliant forms— slender, seething and corpulent—her terrifying generosity knew no bounds. She poured herself upon the surface of Photon. 

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Reminiscing

Honraz Abalax stood before the smoking mass of the only drop pod that missed the landing zone. The serenity of the post-battle scene was broken by the stirring of debris and loud coughing. His soot-covered thrall soon emerged from the wreckage holding a black sphere.

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The Lone Ranger

If the Marshal had still had lips, the top one would have curled in disgust when he saw the shuttle dropping from the stratosphere. But his lips were long gone, along with a whole load of other shit no sane person really needed, so he contented himself with vocalising a kind of sigh through the vox-grill occupying the site of his former mouth. 

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