If what hooked you was Belisarius Arjona’s meticulous long con—grifts within grifts, quantum-cool headwork, and a crew working angles from every vector—then Rajaniemi’s posthuman caper will hit the same pleasure centers. Jean le Flambeur schemes his way through the memory‑market city of the Oubliette while outmaneuvering the Sobornost, matching the brainy, gadget‑savvy gambits you loved when Belisarius orchestrated that fleet‑through‑the‑gate operation and manipulated the Puppets to misdirect the powers that be. It’s the same clockwork elegance of a plan coming together, just dialed up to wild, future physics.

You enjoyed how Belisarius uses real constraints—biology, engineering, comms, and timing—to make an impossible job plausible. In Artemis, Jazz Bashara’s lunar heist leans on blow‑by‑blow technical ingenuity in the same way Belisarius’s team does when they spoof sensors, jury‑rig ships, and thread that dangerous checkpoint. If you loved the way hard physics and clever hacks made the con in The Quantum Magician sing, you’ll relish Jazz’s oxygen‑tight, EVA‑fraught scheming on the Moon.

The backstage chess you liked—Belisarius playing client states and posthuman patrons against each other while dodging the Puppets’ influence and the unseen hands behind the gate—has a rich echo here. Breq, a former warship AI in a human body, navigates the Radch empire’s courtly knives-out politics, shifting loyalties, and layered identities. If the quiet threats and deal‑making around Belisarius’s operation grabbed you as much as the caper itself, this delivers that same cool, calculating intrigue.

If assembling Belisarius’s team—the pilot with a past, the indispensable tech, the fixer who knows every back channel—and watching them bounce off each other under pressure was your jam, you’ll vibe with the Rocinante’s crew. Holden, Naomi, Amos, and Alex juggle secrets and shifting allegiances while flying straight into a crisis that, like the fleet job in The Quantum Magician, spirals from a tight mission into a solar‑system‑shaking conspiracy.

Belisarius isn’t noble—he’s brilliant, persuasive, and perfectly willing to bend anyone’s ethics (including his own) to make the plan land. If that appealed—especially the way he sweet‑talks marks, weaponizes reputation, and pivots when the scheme collides with bigger predators—then Locke and the Gentlemen Bastards will feel like kin. It’s the same intoxicating blend of charisma, razor‑edged banter, and ruthless improvisation you enjoyed when Belisarius steered the con past rival factions and turned setbacks into leverage.