‘I was there,’ he would say afterwards, until afterwards became a time quite devoid of laughter. ‘I was there, the day Horus slew the Emperor.’

Many people familiar with science fiction will have heard of Warhammer 40,000, a tabletop wargame created by Games Workshop which features a universe so rich and deep, it’s expanded into its own series of novels, video games, and even an animated movie. Of all the factions and races in the 40K universe, the Astartes — more commonly known as Space Marines — are by far the most well-known and iconic; genetically-enhanced warriors clad in powered plate-armour, wielding weapons of mass destruction and subjugating anything and everything in their path in the name of mankind and their near-dead God-Emperor. Nearly unstoppable and quite literally fearless, the Space Marines are the only thing standing between humanity’s survival and a galaxy filled with a myriad of indescribable horrors.

In the universe of the 41st millennium, the Emperor was a figure of almost mythical power who rose up to unite the splintered factions of humanity across the galaxy under a single banner, with the aid of the Primarchs — genetically-engineered super-warriors created in his image — and the legions of Space Marines under their command. Something went horribly wrong, however, and the forces of Chaos — malevolent, demonic entities existing on a plane just outside of our normal universe — worked to twist the noble Space Marines to their foul and unholy ways, resulting in a series of events known as the Horus Heresy, where many of the Primarchs and their associated chapters of Marines betrayed the Emperor and became something entirely less than human.

The Horus Heresy series goes back to the beginning to tell this tale from its origins, during the early years of the Emperor’s so-caled Great Crusade. The first book in the series — Horus Rising – follows the exploits of the Luna Wolves, a chapter of Space Marines under the command of the Warmaster Horus, most trusted and beloved of all the Emperor’s children. Still very much alive yet occupied with other duties, the Emperor has tasked the Warmaster with the lofty mantle of commanding his crusade from the front lines, forcing each splintered group of humans on distant worlds to submit to the Emperor’s rule or be subjugated by force.

Far from the bloodthirsty warmonger one might suspect Horus to be (as did I before reading this book!), he is instead portrayed as a well-liked and charismatic leader, gifted equally in the arts of war and diplomacy, and every bit as much a brilliant tactician as one in his position should be. The majority of the book, however, is told from the viewpoint of Garviel Loken, Captain of the Luna Wolves 10th Company, a particularly dry and humourless Marine utterly loyal to his brothers-in-arms and his Emperor — a character who I found was initially quite difficult to like, but eventually grew on me. Other parts of the book allow a somewhat more human perspective when told through the eyes of the remembrancers — artists, poets, musicians, writers, painters and the like, who have been sent to document and draw inspiration from the Great Crusade as it happens.

The book spans several planets and the events between, and while all seems well on the surface, the seeds of corruption have already been sown and through seemingly minor events and actions (usually remarked upon by Loken or others for the benefit of the reader — pride, jealousy, hatred, secret meetings and fellowships) the very beginnings of the downfall can be observed, as well as a brief glimpse of Chaos’ dreadful power first-hand. It’s a slow and subtle approach, yet the book manages to be quite gripping nonetheless with its variety of settings and events, including some disastrous twists that none could foresee. While a little slow in parts, overall the story manages to hold together well and seems a good length, not too long nor too short.

Dan Abnett’s usual “everyone dies” approach is thankfully toned quite far down, though plenty of bloodshed and death lies within, so overall I’d heartily recommend this book to fans of the Warhammer 40,000 universe, as well as being a fairly decent introduction to the series for those who are unfamiliar with it.

In a fit of insomnia-derived boredom last night, I read through the entirety of Death Troopers by Joe Schreiber, one of many novels based in the Star Wars universe. This book had been sitting on my shelf waiting to be read for some time now, and while I was well aware of what to expect from the cover art — a bloodied and broken Stormtrooper helmet hanging by a shattered eyepiece from a meat-hook — I’m utterly unsurprised to say that it was exactly what I expected; no more, and no less. As a warning, there will be some spoilers in this review.

To begin with, I’ll say that this could only loosely be considered a Star Wars novel at all, aside from a loose association with the universe and awkward inclusion of some characters from the movies, and could easily have fit just as well into any other space sci-fi setting. Rather than being game-changing canon, it opts instead to be a simple yet entertaining, trashy novel about everyone’s favourite over-used cliché: zombies. Unfortunately — though perhaps predictably — Schreiber opts for the Scott Sigler approach to horror, which is to say, little to no actual “horror” elements, nothing in particular to make the reader frightened or unsettled, but instead simply a relentless influx of brutal, putrid gore. In fact, there was barely a single element to the story which made me have any reaction at all, aside from one particular part involving an orphaned wookiee child which managed to tug at my proverbial heart-strings a little, and an eye-roll-inducing scene later, where the abhorrent, sociopathic, murderous Imperial officer has a last-minute change of heart for the greater good. Not at all clichéd or out of place, Joe.

With the obligatory bashing aside, it was still a novel worth reading once — albeit only for the trashy entertainment value — though I doubt it’ll take up permanent residence on many peoples’ bookshelves. The writing was solid, the setting was largely believable (within its fantasy universe) with a few genuinely unexpected twists amidst the tropes, the visceral gore was enough to satisfy most fans of that particular brand of horror, and the whole thing is lightweight enough to churn through in one evening, or one particularly long train journey. For successfully walking the line between Star Wars sci-fi and visceral horror, it deserves at least some recognition; just don’t expect a literary epic that you’ll re-read time and time again.