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Echoes of Empire (Backyard Starship, #11) Echoes of Empire by J.N. Chaney
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“Oh, I have to get a picture of this,” I said as Funboy stepped out of the Frankie. He stood, wearing sandals, baggy Bermuda shorts, and an oversized shirt that was both loud and tacky. The shirt, which hung to his narrow hips, featured a pattern of blue, yellow, and red shapes that were either paramecium or paisley. I couldn’t decide which, and I was too busy enjoying Funboy’s expression. Each floppy shirtsleeve had gold braiding like the cord for drapes in a decaying castle, and the collar was trimmed in purple fuzz taken from a hapless animal that was, no doubt, utterly fabulous. A broad-brimmed sun hat”
J.N. Chaney, Echoes of Empire
“She was his adoptive daughter, obviously, but despite being wholly different species, they had a relationship as close and loving as any I’d ever seen between a parent and child.”
J.N. Chaney, Echoes of Empire
“it is a truism that some of the most passionate devotees to a cause are those that were once opposed to it and eventually came to embrace it instead.”
J.N. Chaney, Echoes of Empire
“No one’s more ambitious than someone who’s managed to get their foot onto the bottom rung of the wealth ladder, because from there they can see the top.”
J.N. Chaney, Echoes of Empire
“Her name was Zenophir, and she was a mother who lost her daughter, and now her mothers and fathers have lost her,” Netty-P said, then raised the auto gun she’d scavenged on the surface and put three rounds into the head of the synth on the right. She did not miss.”
J.N. Chaney, Echoes of Empire