A somewhat standard-issue premise effectively commanded by a fan of the genre.
In Lallier’s first flight in a new military SF series, humans in deep space go from joint Earth-alien war games to the real thing when they answer a distress signal.
This story is set in 2144, when humankind is a discounted, junior member of a vast space “Commonwealth” of spacefaring civilizations. They’re somewhat friendly with the Tyndal, blue-skinned humanoids who superficially resemble earthlings and play a mentoring role; however, they often come across as curt, aloof, and suspicious due to their mystical and highly logical nature. Their war games are strained when the humans realize that their Tyndal opponents have been cheating by using long-embedded surveillance devices. Then the humans’ instruments detect a weak distress signal, indicating an attack in territory that’s under the control of the Ssenn—a race of headless quadrupeds whose wisdom and technology even the Tyndals respect. At the insistence of the Earth’s Regent, the war games’ ships divert to Ssenn space on a rescue mission—one that not only strains treaties, but also becomes a violent conflict with alien raiders, and self-doubting Rear Adm. Jason Ngene is in the thick of it. The author specifically credits the original 1960s Star TrekTV series as a major influence, and the human-Tyndal relationship here certainly recalls the one between humans and Vulcans on that classic show. However, the material also calls to mind a number of other favorite SF franchises with its mix of interplanetary diplomacy, derring-do, and troopship maneuvers, including David Weber’s Honor Harrington novels, Larry Niven’s tales of the Man-Kzin wars, and Ian Douglas’ Star Carrier series. The essential thrust of the narrative is also familiar for the subgenre—a crisis test in which Earth soldiers must exhibit proper courage, brains, and judgment to prove they can take their place among more advanced alien cultures. But despite its familiarity, Lallier executes the mission successfully, and indeed, once things get underway the pace doesn’t let up. The plotline, which emphasizes duty, ethical choice, and sacrifice, avoids any romance or unexpected twists, but the author manages to wrap up this installment with a satisfying conclusion.
A somewhat standard-issue premise effectively commanded by a fan of the genre.Pub Date: Oct. 30, 2019
ISBN: 978-1-70698-732-1
Page Count: 314
Publisher: Self
Review Posted Online: July 29, 2020
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Sept. 15, 2020
Review Program: Kirkus Indie
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
A cleverly titled, cozy SF romance that marks Thorne as a writer to watch.
After purchasing a dilapidated, century-old starship called the Destitute, Torian Razner discovers that the moss covering it is, in fact, a deeply sarcastic sentient computer with abandonment issues.
Torian’s sister, Celise, is dying. Determined to save her life by getting her to a distant planet with air she can breathe, Torian ignores her former captain Amelia Perrosk’s warning that it’s an impossible task (along with any romantic feelings she might have for Amelia). Using the only ionite bars she has to her name, Torian purchases an ancient, moss-covered alien starship that appears to be on its last legs, so to speak. She hardly expected the moss to be a sentient computer or for it to hold a century-old grudge against its former alien captain. Moss quickly proves itself to be acerbic, intelligent, and rightly angry after being having been left behind for 100 years by its former captain. The two form a reluctant and surprising alliance, Torian proving to Moss that not all captains are “dog-turd fungus,” and they both gradually evolve into the best versions of themselves, human or otherwise. It’s obvious from the early pages that Thorne has crafted a story tailored to fans of Becky Chambers’ Monk & Robot series and Martha Wells’ Murderbot Diaries. Falling somewhere between the two, this is a delightful mashup of romance, found family, and a touch of violence as Moss grapples with its feelings about its former captain and the unexpected kindness that Torian shows. Sweet without being overly saccharine, it’s a book for readers who want the adventure that comes with the vastness of outer space without its harsher realities.
A cleverly titled, cozy SF romance that marks Thorne as a writer to watch.Pub Date: July 7, 2026
ISBN: 9781250414144
Page Count: 368
Publisher: Bramble Books
Review Posted Online: April 20, 2026
Kirkus Reviews Issue: May 15, 2026
BOOK REVIEW
One small step, no giant leaps.
Weir (The Martian, 2014) returns with another off-world tale, this time set on a lunar colony several decades in the future.
Jasmine “Jazz” Bashara is a 20-something deliveryperson, or “porter,” whose welder father brought her up on Artemis, a small multidomed city on Earth’s moon. She has dreams of becoming a member of the Extravehicular Activity Guild so she’ll be able to get better work, such as leading tours on the moon’s surface, and pay off a substantial personal debt. For now, though, she has a thriving side business procuring low-end black-market items to people in the colony. One of her best customers is Trond Landvik, a wealthy businessman who, one day, offers her a lucrative deal to sabotage some of Sanchez Aluminum’s automated lunar-mining equipment. Jazz agrees and comes up with a complicated scheme that involves an extended outing on the lunar surface. Things don’t go as planned, though, and afterward, she finds Landvik murdered. Soon, Jazz is in the middle of a conspiracy involving a Brazilian crime syndicate and revolutionary technology. Only by teaming up with friends and family, including electronics scientist Martin Svoboda, EVA expert Dale Shapiro, and her father, will she be able to finish the job she started. Readers expecting The Martian’s smart math-and-science problem-solving will only find a smattering here, as when Jazz figures out how to ignite an acetylene torch during a moonwalk. Strip away the sci-fi trappings, though, and this is a by-the-numbers caper novel with predictable beats and little suspense. The worldbuilding is mostly bland and unimaginative (Artemis apartments are cramped; everyone uses smartphonelike “Gizmos”), although intriguing elements—such as the fact that space travel is controlled by Kenya instead of the United States or Russia—do show up occasionally. In the acknowledgements, Weir thanks six women, including his publisher and U.K. editor, “for helping me tackle the challenge of writing a female narrator”—as if women were an alien species. Even so, Jazz is given such forced lines as “I giggled like a little girl. Hey, I’m a girl, so I’m allowed.”
One small step, no giant leaps.Pub Date: Nov. 14, 2017
ISBN: 978-0-553-44812-2
Page Count: 320
Publisher: Crown
Review Posted Online: July 16, 2017
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Aug. 15, 2017
© Copyright 2026 Kirkus Media LLC. All Rights Reserved.
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