The first Black Library novel published under the Warhammer Crime label, Chris Wraight’s Bloodlines is a tale of corruption, brutality and rampant inequality which takes a close look at the gritty realities of life for everyday Imperial citizens. In the vast, continent-sized hive city of Varangantua, Probator Agusto Zidarov is tasked with investigating the apparent disappearance of a spoiled scion of one of the city’s most powerful families. Despite his initial misgivings, it gradually becomes clear that something vile and deeply dangerous is going on in Varangantua. In order to get to the bottom of it Zidarov must navigate vicious cartels, the over-privileged ruling elite, and the corrupt systems of law and bureaucracy in which he himself works.
While this is recognisably a 40k novel, it quickly becomes clear that it’s about as far away from the usual action-heavy, military sci-fi as possible. Zidarov gets in one minor gunfight early on, but after that barely has cause to unholster his Tzarina autopistol, relying predominantly on dogged determination, careful surveillance and sharp questions, leaving violence as the last resort. It’s very much a police procedural style of story, using Zidarov’s perspective to show what it’s like as a probator both on the Varangantuan streets and back in the cramped offices of the enforcer Bastion. Whether overworked enforcers, brutal sanctioners, regular citizens slogging through restrictive and often dangerous lives, or the distant and entitled rich, every strata of the population that he deals with seems corrupt to a greater or lesser extent, which makes Zidarov’s job a remarkably difficult one.
As the first ever Warhammer Crime novel it’s no surprise that many of the standard crime elements are present and correct here – a weary, ageing detective with problems back at home; the shady but useful partner; the overbearing boss constantly giving the protagonist a hard time. The overall shape of the plot will likewise feel quite familiar to regular crime fiction readers, but Wraight injects plenty of entertaining twists and turns to keep the momentum going, and the central conceit is suitably compelling. Without giving too much away, it’s fascinating to read a story which takes a notionally neutral character – this is 40k after all, so the enforcers are still pretty brutal – and asks him to dig beneath the surface of an element of Imperial life which perfectly encapsulates the inequality between rich and poor. With that as the background, the actual mechanics of the story can afford to be fairly straightforward.
What really lifts this novel, however, is the detail Wraight offers in his descriptions of the city, and what life under Imperial rule is like for regular citizens. Varangantua is much more than ‘just a city’ – it’s a vast conglomeration of wildly differing locales from the dingiest of run-down warehouse districts to the most opulent of up-hive enclaves, populated by all manner of citizens from the strangest to the most commonplace, and it’s all united by an almost cyberpunk tone that isn’t usually present in 40k stories. Iris implants, slate transfers across the dataveil, neon-bright holographic advertising hoardings, all these high-tech elements rub shoulders with oily street-food vendors, cramped hab units and sweaty, dingy dive bars, bringing ‘domestic 40k’ to life in a way that even the Eisenhorn series, or Wraight’s own Vaults of Terra stories, haven’t quite managed to do before.
There’s a lot to enjoy here for existing 40k fans wanting something a little different, not least in the shape of a POV character who doesn’t really buy into Imperial propaganda. It’s great to get this sort of ground-up view of the Imperium, where the very idea of the Imperial Guard is deeply contentious, for example, and Zidarov and his wife are desperate to keep their daughter from enlisting. As an introduction to 40k for someone new to the setting it might not be quite as effective, as despite the absence of obvious tabletop game elements there’s a noticeable abundance of 40k-specific terminology. The provided glossary is very welcome, but even a regular 40k reader might find lots of terms to look up, while someone new could well be overfaced by all the setting-specific details. Still, look past that and this is undoubtedly the best example of ‘domestic’ 40k yet, and for all that it’s a little bit safe as a pure crime novel, it’s nevertheless very entertaining.
See also: RAPID FIRE: Chris Wraight Talks Bloodlines.
