A band of space-going reality TV adventurers is forced into a dangerous smuggling escapade to aid an alien civilization of tortoises in their war against genocidal humanoid hares.

Pearce continues his Green Charisma series of sardonic space-opera adventures in this series entry. In the future, videographer-producer-director Ian “Mac” MacIntyre aspires to package a reality TV action series starring his two partners. Joe Drake, portraying Captain Charisma, is a big, boisterous former soldier whose past exploits keep coming back to haunt the team, and Sanraya ba’Marta is a Vellaran—a formidable and alluring female lizard-humanoid—acting as an adjunct fighter and general purpose science officer. (Vellarans’ “heads are roundish, like a human’s, and they have two eyes, two earflaps, and a nose. Granted, their mouths are filled with serrated triangular teeth, but emotionally they differ little from humans.”) She has also become the acrimoniously divorced Mac’s lover (apparently, the sex between Mac and Sanraya is, well, out of this world). But business has been slow, and their Green Charisma Chronicles reality TV enterprise faces ruin if the team fails to contrive episodes with some sort of excitement. The trio undertake an assignment from a non-human humanitarian organization to smuggle vital medicine to a distant, resource-rich world derisively known as Clodhopper. There, a genocidal empire called the Polavians, whose members happen to bear an ironic resemblance to fluffy bunny rabbits, is waging a campaign of occupation and extermination against the less advanced, terrapinlike natives called Clodhoppers. (It’s a tortoise vs. hare situation, but escalated to an interplanetary conflict.) The stakes get higher when the Alliance (a military authority) steps in and forces the heroes to accept contraband weapons to deliver to the embattled Clodhoppers. Further complications include the spaceship provided for the job (an unimpressive-looking vessel piloted by a saucy artificial intelligence), resentful rival mercenaries out to grab the mission for themselves, and the fact that “Captain Charisma” Joe previously fought the nasty, long-eared Polavians during his legitimate military career and is now considered an infamous war criminal with a substantial bounty on his head.

The yarn is mostly military SF blended with a minor, sidelong satire of entertainment media; Mac has to repeatedly remind himself and readers that drone cameras are in play, and that the squad are supposed to be filming a show (“Tracking my gaze, a heads-up display allowed me to control the camera’s flight operations, lighting, focus, zoom function, and other features”). Though generous opportunities for spoofing present themselves readily—after all, we are talking about killer rabbit commandos, not to mention noble Clodhoppers carrying an echo of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles in a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it gag reference—the preponderance of the material is delivered in a mock-serious manner by Mac’s he-man first-person narration (“Interrogation is a four-letter word. Nobody likes doing it, myself included, but armies and police have been using it as a means to gather useful intelligence for eons”). Battleground action on land and in the atmosphere rarely lets up, ornamented with occasional inspired puns (the tortoise-folk’s resistance is called the “Shellshock Syndicate”) and absurdities. More rambunctious installments in the series are promised.

Tongue-in-cheek military SF that leans heavier on action than comedy.

In Pearce’s SF novel, an embattled reality-TV director is tasked with making an action-hero out of a burly ex-military man, but their pilot episode, shot on an alien-infested space station, could be their finale.

In the far future, balding and out-of-shape videographer-producer Ian MacIntyre is given a last chance to salvage his failing career by broadcast production company Galactic: He’s to head into the deep cosmos and do a reality-TV program based on the heroics of a manufactured idol, “Captain Charisma.” The actor chosen to work with MacIntyre and play the title role is brawny, ingratiating ladies’ man Joe Drake—Texan, ex-military, and fairly fearless (he also acted as “narrator in Death of a Salesman. A Capulet extra in Romeo and Juliet. Most of my work occurred behind the curtains”). MacIntyre is not initially impressed. En route to Galactic’s preferred shooting-location planet, the duo is sidetracked at the gigantic Minnix Ore Space Station 27, crossroads for a variety of alien civilizations that are generally hateful toward each other. The human female commander has an issue, one that MacIntyre thinks could make for a nice try-out episode: A large, beetle-like insect pest, possibly smuggled aboard as alien livestock, has gotten loose and is chewing through vital cabling and infrastructure. Captain Charisma can play exterminator before the lens of MacIntyre’s ever-hovering camera drone. (“The bigwigs insisted filming a bug hunt would make for good drama—a hero blasting a critter into a gooey mess. Fine by me, except for the conditions aboard this space station. Lighting? Terrible. Audio conditions? Worse.”) But the bug turns out to be bigger and far deadlier than imagined, and the aliens aboard turn out to be harboring schemes and secrets. Ian’s vengeful ex-wife, Rose, once his partner-in-holovids, has arrived on Minnix herself, accompanied by a vainglorious cyborg adventurer, determined to do her own reality-TV franchise and put MacIntyre and Drake out of business—if they are not killed first.

With this volume, the author begins a new space-opera series, The Green Charisma Chronicles (a pre-existing novella, The Cinematographer’s Conscience, fleshes out the backstory). Readers should have no trouble following the action, unless they are somehow unfamiliar with the we-only-wish-it-were-SF phenomenon of reality TV. The high action quotient here could qualify the material as combat-military SF with a heaping helping of showbiz satire on the side as ethics go out the window (or airlock, in this case): everyone is motivated by big bucks and boffo ratings. Oddly, the overall vibe and plot mechanics hew closer to yesteryear’s spoofs of prime-time network television and Nielsen numbers rather than home in on the 21st century’s media landscape of internet channel views, livestreams, and social-media trends. Lighter elements of the story include MacIntyre’s blossoming odd-couple romance with a sexy, shapely lizard girl and various other farcical enological developments. The mayhem and battles, when they come, are in the slam-bang pulp tradition and do not let up. Fans of the prolific Harry Harrison should latch onto this series with great delight.

Diverting space action, breezy banter, and dismemberment, leavened by media spoofs.