Gunboat

I expected *Gunboat* to be another by-the-numbers military sci-fi adventure, but Henegar’s story sneaks up on you, wrapping its hooks around your ribs and refusing to let go. Alex Perone’s performance is the secret weapon here—his Watkins isn’t just a disembodied consciousness; he’s a man slowly unraveling under the weight of responsibility, and Perone sells the exhaustion, the frustration, and the flickers of hope with terrifying authenticity. Marissa Parness’s narration is equally strong, particularly in her portrayal of secondary characters who feel like they’ve stepped out of a gritty war documentary rather than a space opera. The pacing is relentless, with Henegar doling out revelations like a miser hoarding gold, and the production team wisely lets the tension breathe—unlike some audiobooks that rush every emotional beat into oblivion. That said, the story stumbles slightly in its middle act, where the novel’s scope expands to include political maneuvering that feels tacked-on rather than organic. The *Gunboat*’s crew, while compelling, occasionally blur together in the narration, and a few supporting characters verge on caricature. Still, these are minor quibbles. *Gunboat* isn’t just a book about fixing a broken ship—it’s about what it means to be whole when you’re not even sure you were ever human to begin with. The final act left me breathless, and Perone’s raw, exhausted reading of the climax is the kind of performance that lingers in your bones. If you want sci-fi that’s as cerebral as it is explosive, this is your ride.