One of the hardest things to do in genre fiction is to move on. You come to a book or TV series with a premise: it really was ancient aliens who built the pyramids, they had these ring-shaped gateways that connected planets across light-years and they used them to enslave humans. You build on that premise: modern day humans find one of the rings and start exploring, learn about the threat from the evil aliens and try and do something about it. Then, after hard work, sacrifices, close calls, the occasional harrowing side threat, reverse-engineering the heck out of the alien tech, and making a few friends along the way, you finally are able to overthrow their order and save the galaxy. Sooo... what next. Of course, what I'm describing is Stargate SG-1, and after 8 seasons of brilliant television, the question "what next" ended up being the one threat the series couldn't find an answer for. They settled on the Ori, an annoyingly over-powered threat which somehow had less personality than the enemies who were actual robots and completely destroyed both the power scaling and the basic premise of the show (since instead of using advanced technology to mimic magic, the Ori really were magic, making all the usual ways SG-1 had of dealing with more advanced opponents basically worthless so much so that the show finally solved the problem via deus ex machina (with the Asgard basically saying here ya go, our whole species is about to go extinct, so here's the keys to our superweapons, go out and kill the Ori)).
WHY IN THE WORLD AM I TALKING SO MUCH ABOUT SG-1 IN A REVIEW THAT IS OSTENSIBLY ABOUT NEW FRONTIERS? Well, SG-1 was about the most consistently watchable long-form sci-fi show... ever. Was it as smart as Star Trek at its best? No. Was it as harrowing and evocative as Battlestar Galactica? Certainly not. Was it as crazy and awesome as Farscape? Heresy to even suggest such a thing. BUT, it found the middle ground better than any of them, building a show that was smart enough, fun enough, wild enough, and imaginative enough to stick around for a LONG time. But even with all that, it failed miserably to move beyond its initial idea. All that to say, Dalzelle does it.
He started this series with a simple idea: humanity thinks it's alone, they've expanded, they've colonized nearby stars, and they've been at peace for a long time. Then one day, a distress call comes in, and when a ship responds, it finds a colony world in ruins, nothing left alive, nothing even worth rebuilding. Following in the path of this unknown aggressor, it discovers a massive alien ship of terrifying power which shows no interest in communicating or explaining, just bulldozing its way through human space destroying everything in its path, and this sparks a desperate war for survival, a war humanity barely even remembers how to fight. BUT they resolved that, the Phage is dead, the threat is gone, and it would seem like humanity is safe for the time being, but... not so much.
The phage war left deep scars among the human worlds as many blamed the reckless illegal expansion by certain factions for drawing the attention of the Phage in the first place, while those factions seek to obviate responsibility by claiming the Phage War was the fault of the captain who stumbled upon the path of destruction, acting as if he provoked them somehow to specifically target their worlds. The result is schism. Half the Confederation has split off to form the Eastern Stars Alliance, the other half is desperately trying to pick up the pieces and reform their government into something functional. With half the fleet joining the ESA and the half left to the rump Confederation among those most badly used in the recent fighting, things aren't looking good. Then, into this mix, a pair of alien species arrive on the fringes of human space. One, the Ushin, seeks friendly relations. The others, the Darshik, keep sending cryptic warnings and display growing hostility at every turn. What is humanity to make of them? Can they be trusted or understood and what do they want? Even though these aliens aren't world destroyers and seem willing and able to communicate, how is humanity to know if they are truly friends or foes? At the forefront of this issue is Captain Celesta Wright, commander of the destroyer Icarus and former XO/protege of Captain Wolfe, the main protagonist of the prior trilogy.
Given my LONG diatribe about SG-1 at the start of this review, I'm sure you can guess by now that I'm always leery when a franchise goes beyond its initial premise. I've seen it fail miserably too many times (the Halo series is another that comes to mind, sadly), and often not by being bad but by not having the spirit and fun of what came before and by dragging out its corpse and trying vainly to beat it into something fans might still enjoy. But I feel like Dalzelle pulled it off. His aliens are strange without seeming at all like the Vruuah or the Phage, but both have obviously been shaped, in different ways than humanity, by their own encounters with the Phage, and the book provides plenty of mystery and intrigue to leave us guessing what the aliens want and where things are going. The inter-human conflict that begins to get serious in this volume also feels very realistic and provides an additional source of pressure for the "United Terran Federation" to try and resolve its alien problems quickly, making some hasty assumptions along the way. All in all, this continues to be a very enjoyable space opera series.