Bloody Books -Interceptor City
It is a well-known fact among Black Library readers that waiting for a Dan Abnett sequel is a true exercise in patience. When Double Eagle landed in 2004, it was a smash hit—bringing the high-octane thrill of World War II-style aerial dogfights out of the trenches of the Imperial Guard and into the open skies of Enothis. Speculation about a follow-up, wrapped in the mythic title of Interceptor City, spent a staggering twenty years gathering dust while Abnett was busy wrapping up the entire Horus Heresy.
Now, the long-awaited regular hardback is at last floating around on shelves. Two decades is an eternity to wait between instalments, leaving only one real question to answer: Was it worth the twenty-year itch? The short answer is a resounding, unadulterated yes. If your wallet was hesitating, consider yourself released. Go buy it.
What makes Interceptor City such a triumph is how it masterfully flips the script on its predecessor. Where Double Eagle felt vast, Interceptor City is brilliantly, suffocatingly claustrophobic. Abnett drops us directly into Vesperus, a sprawling, gothic Hive City filled with vertical chasms and structural labyrinths. This isn't wide-open aerial warfare, but instead close-quarters flight combat inside an urban cave system. It’s that cool bit in literally any fighter pilot story where they have to fly through a tight space, except the entire book is built around that exact level of tension. You can practically smell the engine wash and feel the structural columns whizzing past your canopy as you are inches from smashing a Valkyrie to absolute pieces.
At the absolute heart of this narrative is Bree Jagdea. It’s been long enough since the first book that you might not remember exactly what role she played, but Abnett handles the introduction with a deftness that means it doesn't even matter. This works perfectly fine as a standalone, making it a cracking starting point for anyone entirely new to Warhammer 40,000. Jagdea is a creation of profound duality, a celebrated former ace now reluctantly hiding away behind the controls of low-stakes cargo haulers to avoid the fight. Watching her get dragged right back into the chaotic, meat-grinder skies of Vesperus is incredibly poignant. Outside of the cockpit, the book operates like a slow-burn thriller, thick with the paranoia of a suspected traitor lurking among the ranks. The stress oozes off the pages. Abnett has always been a master of demonstrating how war thoroughly breaks regular people, illustrating survivor's guilt, dissociation, and escapism with severe emotional care.
One highlight of Abnett's world-building has to be the concept of "glory stories". These in-universe Imperial propaganda leaflets filled with happy endings and clean victories. It's a cheeky, meta-nod to the tropes of Black Library's own catalog, and it goes a remarkably long way to making the centuries of relentless warfare feel lived-in and real. If there is any critique to be made, it’s that the pacing matches the frantic adrenaline of the dogfights so closely that you might find yourself slightly breathless trying to keep up with the structural geometry of the Hive. But it is balanced beautifully by the quiet, introspective beats where Jagdea’s internal monologue grounds the madness.
Ultimately, Interceptor City is some of Abnett’s finest work. It avoids the trap of being a high-brow lecture on military strategy and remains a pulpy, deeply moving joy to read. It captures the very essence of why we read grimdark, in the staggering cost of bravery and the sheer weight of trying to live with yourself after the smoke clears.
Very, very recommended