Jack Luckner – författare

Karl Bradford, a proud citizen of a space habitat at Lagrange Point 5, has a life-and-death problem. No, really, he does.His grandfather, the last living human being on Earth has just died, and a journalist wants to interview Karl about the old man's life.He had, after all, been the last refusenik, the last of the renegades who had refused to emigrate into space, to leave their homes in order to save the Earth from humanity's predations.Now, today's elites fear that many of the colonists are flirting with the same subversive questions that the refuseniks had harbored. How do we know that the situation had been that dire? Couldn't another way have been found? What does it mean to be both human and cut off from the Earth?Dangerous questions, indeed.Therefore, unless is notable death is handled with skill and ruthlessness, it might very well set off a dangerous cascade of political discontent . . . and of refusal.And because the stakes are so catastrophically high, Karl's answers must be absolutely correct. Otherwise, he is sure to be assigned to a reorientation battalion or much, much worse.

Living on a comfy boat in a cozy marina has its rewards. Often, sadly, the neighbor's dog is not one of them, just the opposite. However, the marina in this story is a bit of an odd duck, and its B Row is the sort of place where the unexpected is taken for granted. In other words, the liveaboards call it home. As for their problematic dogs, well, they would do well to treat it with the utmost respect. No peeing on the hose bibs! I have several B Row adventures in the pipeline. They are stories about boating and boaters, often with a paranormal twist, set in a solidly run marina located a fair distance south of the Tacoma Narrows bridge. This part of the Sound lacks the flash and dash of places farther north. It's quieter, with a variety of places to tuck in for the night or the weekend or the week. Ah, heaven! So read on, O fearless reader.

Have you ever attempted something that didn't work out the way you'd imagined it would or that turned out to downright sketchy? I remember trying to ride my motor scooter over a large pile of dirt, thinking the "e;jump"e; would be great fun. I ended up breaking my arm. No big deal in the great scheme of things, but a broken arm is small potatoes compared to some of the jams people—and governments, by the way—get themselves into. Sadly, the boys and girls have never been home by Christmas.The bottom line is that we've all had ambitions that turned out to be dangerous.This full-length collection of short stories plays on the theme of dangerous ambitions, personal and societal. If this topic intrigues you, if you've ever bought the paintjob as opposed to the rot bucket underneath, then, first, you're not alone, and, second, you're likely to enjoy this collection.

This novella has a simple premise: just a few acts of ecoterrorism can ruin your whole summer. July runs into August, and Holiday Warrior, a trawler yacht, runs into a drifting naval mine.  The resulting explosion echoes across much of the Broughton Archipelago, British Columbia.  The debris rains down onto the otherwise serene waters of Queen Charlotte Strait, dusting the low, westerly swell.  The gulls and the seals race to the spot and chow down on anything edible. As the reports come in, a junior manager in the Harbour Office of Port McNeill feels the hairs stand up on the back of his neck. Not content to rely exclusively on the authorities, he begins his own investigation. He soon finds himself in a race to uncover the truth before the beginning of the next boating season, before anyone else has to die, before anyone else becomes a Smörgåsbord Board for the local wildlife.

In an early twentieth century forged by the failure of the American and French revolutions, Europe has flung itself into a global war over helium. The world's empires will stop at nothing to guarantee their own supplies while cutting off those of their enemies. It's a brutal war, but Captain Sidney Bowen tries his best to keep his head down as he commands the British Navy's cargo dirigible Saturna. Alongside his official cargoes, he transports French wine, pilfered engine parts, and other oddments, often on behalf of his superiors. A dirty business, smuggling, but it keeps the brass happy and it pays well. Now and then, it even helps the war effort. But when an agent of the King comes to Bowen with some odd and dangerous requests, he must make some difficult choices. Whose orders should he follow? Choose wrong, and his entire crew could be charged with treason. If they survive the trip in the first place . . . Because one thing is for damned certain—no way everyone gets to the end of this mission alive.

The Dutchman and her foul-mouthed owner join the denizens of B Row. Most of the time they're a live-and-let-live bunch, but The Dutchman's flaking varnish and filthy decks raise a lot of eyebrows. A lot of things can be said about B Row, but no one can say that B Row isn't willing to help a lady in distress.

Isham Ellis works as a pilot aboard the generation ship New Mayflower. After twelve hazard-filled centuries, the ship is finally approaching her destination. Before they can reach the planet, a brutal murder turns excitement and anticipation into anxiety and dread. The victim—Isham's grandfather, a farmworker,—was murdered for giving lectures about topsoil, but why? And why now? Despite dire warnings, Isham's search for answers makes it clear that his grandfather's murder was only the beginning.

When a galaxy-weary journalist arrives at yet another faux-Bavarian lodge high in the mountains of yet another faux Earth, he has only one objective: to pound out an acceptable story about yet another lone-wolf scientist. Soon, however, two additional objectives bare their fangs: first, to ditch the beer steins and the lederhosen and, second, to hightail it back to civilization. The children of the mountains, however, have their own plans for our intrepid ink-slinger. They intend to make music—such music!—in and with his blood. If you like tales with a humorous edge, then sink your teeth into a copy of "e;The Children of the Mountains"e; before the sun rises!

It's the second decade of an alternate 20th century. The British Empire is at war with the German empire, and the whole thing had turned out to be a bloody mess.Mister Midshipman Basil Dumbarton Cathcart arrives at the Shoreston Hill aerodrome, eager to take up his duties aboard His Majesty's Airship Yukon. Unfortunately, he no sooner pays off his taxi driver than enemy aircraft sweep in, low and fast.Their machine guns spit death, and their bombs shriek down through the keen morning air. Explosions rip up the runways, obliterate the field's fighter aircraft, level critically important buildings, and leave countless personnel dead. The field is crippled, a sitting duck on a millpond. Cathcart must fight back, but how?

Johnny lives in a mean, topsy-turvy world, not radically different from our own. The police protect the criminals, silence or ignore the victims of crime, and pocket a share of the proceeds. Technology has stalled, and in most cases moved in retrograde. Johnny collects antiques, nothing fancy, but they're valuable enough to attract the attention of a pair of home invaders. At first it's only tracking and watching, but when the time comes, when they inevitably attack, Johnny tries to fights them off. Nice try, but their guns easily trump his baseball bat. They rape Johnny and ransack his apartment, hauling off anything worth the effort. Eventually, the police arrive. Rather than gather information on the home invasion and rape, the police threaten to arrest Johnny for having used excessive force in his effort to protect himself. Baseball bats can be deadly weapons, you know. They also tell him that they don't have the resources to chase around after his missing keepsakes. If Johnny knows what's good for him, he'll forget the whole thing. After all, he ain't gonna get knocked up, is he? Undeterred, Johnny sets out to recover his property and his self-respect. His only weapons are his courage and a common gardening tool. The Chinese Panda Vase weaves a dystopian tale in which crime and self-empowerment collide like eighteen-wheelers on an ice-covered highway.

This novel is about an outrageous pissing match, strictly familial, one that involves an unfinished floating home called Enoch's Folly, and an enigmatic river dragon called Chanzilla.The family in question are Portland, Oregon, Winstons and the various branches thereof. They used to be regional movers and shakers, but not anymore. These days both they and their jointly held business face financial ruin.As the major shareholder, Chauncey Winston controls the company, Winston Tug and Barge. He plans to transform it from a dying regional player into an international powerhouse. However, he doesn't have enough shares, enough votes, to implement his plans alone. He needs help to tip the scales in his favor.As luck would have it, Mack MacNaughton, one of Chauncey's nephews, holds the key to deciding the issue in Chauncey's favor.Thanks to the pissing match, Mack's key will end up in Chauncey's hands only if Mack can complete the construction of his late grandfather Enoch's semi-abandoned floating home, known in the family as Enoch's Folly.Meanwhile, Chanzilla, the river dragon, has an agenda of his own. His desire is to live in peace and quiet. Unhappily for him, he lives beneath Enoch's Folly.There's a three-sided range war brewing, and as sure as high water in the springtime, more and more players are going to deal themselves in.

This publication contain two science-fiction short stories. The setting of the first is organized crime in space. The problem isn't about territorial conflicts, corrupt politicians, or supply problems. Rather, on the surface, it's about a domestic arrangement gone sour. When one of tong boss Snakeskin Wong's favored concubines disappears, he calls in his beloved niece, Space Marshal Daisy Wong, to track her down and return the gallivanting, horribly misguided young woman to the bosom of his family. The trail leads back and forth across the solar system, from dives to resorts. It is a path paved with deception, genetic engineers, and murder. The second short story is "e;Jousting for Ma's New Brain."e; It is a prize-fight story featuring jousting in zero-G, set on an L-5 colony. The hero needs to win the big fight in order to afford a brain transplant for his beloved mother. The only problem is that the hero is up against some bad actors who will stop at nothing to win. It's courage and skill against duplicity and villainy.

Chief Petty Officer Lawton Francis Edgecombe has been asked a momentous question: Would he care to become an officer? He serves aboard His Imperial Majesty's starship Reticent. He is the captain's personal steward, as well as the ship's chief steward. Needs must. The ship is of a certain age, and her captain has his little ways, and the war with the vile, underhanded snail-eating Phrawghs isn't going as well as everyone had once hoped it would. Only the dead are getting home by Christmas—any Christmas. Take your pick. But Edgecombe is a man of simple tastes and simpler ambitions. He is happy as he is, where he is. He was not always thus, and he has a cybernetic leg to prove it. Yes, these days Edgecombe's ambitions center around making the best coffee in the fleet, keeping a well-run pantry, and ensuring that the food that ought to be hot is hot and that the food that ought to be cold is cold. Why? Because just about anyone can lose a leg, but not just anyone can turn out a welcoming cup of coffee at 0400 hours! And now, very soon, he must give his answer: Would he care to become an officer? This short story is something of a prequel to The Jolly Tars in Outer Space, a novel to be released in later 2026 or early 2027.

This collection of science-fiction short stories tells a handful of the tales about Lt. Daisy Wong, Space Marshal. She lives and works on, Diligence, a Lagrange colony poised between the Earth and the Moon. Now and then, her work takes her to Mars and other dangerous places. She never lets go of a case, and her record of arrests stands second to none. And with good reason. Unlike her colleagues, she has a wealth of inside information. How? Because she grew up on the wrong side of the law. So, as the savvy child of a criminal-tong boss, Daisy knows both the solar system's criminal parallel under-culture and she knows the solar system's sparkling milieu of public rectitude and legality. Therefore . . . every hour brings Daisy a new challenge, a new threat, a new race between life and death. She wouldn't have it any other way.

A serial killer with a warped sense of humor doesn't appear on this particular retirement center's list of amenities, but neither do Jack and Betty Pamir. One by one, Jack and Betty's neighbors are going face-down in their morning oatmeal. Admittedly, the perky prune surprise can be pretty wretched, but the hearty lumberjack oatmeal ought to be about as benign as last year's keratosis.If you've ever wondered what you'd do if your buddies started to die off for no apparent reason, then you owe it to yourself to tag along with Jack and Betty Pamir.  They're two larky-sparky retirees who love to ask edgy questions and do impolite things, like asking just exactly what's in the zesty raspberry-peach cobbler.Armed with nothing more than their wits, they tackle insurmountable odds in their quest for the truth.  Despite the dangers, they race forward, hoping to discover the solution before the killer puts a stop to their efforts, before they collapse into their yummy breakfast bowels of tangy apply-strawberry granola. After all, retirement shouldn't be lethal.

This short story features Naerian. He is a young, gifted mechanical tinkerer attached to Clan Iredale. If a waterwheel needs fixing, he's the guy to fix it. These days, however, he spends most of his time agonizing over an age-old dilemma: when is a weapon of war deadly enough? This is no mere philosophical question. Indeed not. The destiny of Clan Iredale hinges on the answer Naerian comes up with. And he doesn't have much time to do it. This isn't like fashioning a new drive belt out of cowhide. A powerful cabal of clans has formed to conquer the Iredales, to wipe them out. These clans want what the Iredales have: control over the mouth of the Columbia River. The cabal doesn't have the faintest idea what they'll do with lower stretches of the river if and when they get them, let alone with the Columbia River bar. They have no notion of how to keep the navigation channels open, or how they'll keep overseas trade flowing, or how they'll provide wharfage. Pilings? What are those? Buoys? Another mystery. But never mind. In the short run, they'll happily settle for seizing the stacks of gold they imagine are sitting in Clan Iredales' vaults. After much deliberation, Naerian concludes that if the Iredale's own weapons are more deadly than the cabal's weapons, then the Iredale's weapons will be as deadly as they need to be. Huzzah! So it is that Naerian sets out to fabricate a weapon that will enable the Iredales to prevail against their adversaries. The only downside is that this wonderful plan risks everything that Clan Iredale holds dear.