Yes, today is the day Nightstalkers: Time Patrol is live. This book marks a turning point because the Nighstalkers transition in this story into the Time Patrol and from here on out that will be their mission. The next book will be out in August and it’s Time Patrol: Black Tuesday. I’ve already picked the dates for the next two books after that: Time Patrol: Ides of March and Time Patrol: Valentines Day Massacre.
Time travel has always fascinated me, especially if you accept the premise that if its ever invented, then it exists now. I’m merging the world and theories I invented in my Atlantis series into the Time Patrol:
Hidden deep beneath the Metropolitan Museum of Art is the Time Patrol, a secret agency charged with protecting the world’s timeline from the evil forces who wish to alter it. When the Patrol disappears without a trace, only twelve short hours are left before all life on Earth ceases to exist.
Enter: the Nightstalkers. Summoned to find the Time Patrol, the Nightstalkers’ elite covert operatives begin to notice rifts in their own worlds. And when they realize one of their colleagues has vanished into thin air, the mission gets personal.
From battling krakens and Valkyries to breaching the mythical Bermuda Triangle, the Nightstalkers must risk everything to defeat the malicious forces manipulating time itself. But if they lose, it won’t just mean the end of the world—it will mean the total destruction of the past, the present, and the future.
Brimming with sci-fi action, Time Patrol continues bestselling author Bob Mayer’s pulse-pounding Nightstalkers series.
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When It Changed for Moms from Time Patrol published in two days, on Tuesday
It changed for Moms by figuratively traveling into her past, both in place and time. She was already in the place, having made the drive of tears back home. She was sitting on the front porch of the abandoned shotgun shack where she’d grown up in the middle of Nowhere, Kansas. Interstate 80 was to the south, across the flat plains, but so far away that no sound traveled from the eighteen-wheelers racing across the middle of the country.
There was no other house in sight, just slightly undulating miles and miles of fields, and despite all the years since she’d left, Moms still had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. It had started when she’d entered Kansas and grown stronger every mile she drew closer to ‘home’. The house was empty, long deserted. Her younger brothers never came out here, smarter than she was, understanding some memories only brought pain.
It seemed Moms was a masochist, going back to her roots in order to remember.
But sometimes, going into the past is necessary in order to move forward.
There are variations on that, such as changing the present in order to move forward, which Moms was soon to be discover.
And what are your thoughts on this possible cover for the next book in the series: Time Patrol: Black Tuesday?
When It Changed from Time Patrol published next Tuesday
It changed at Area 51 deep inside the sprawling complex set in the middle of Nowhere, Nevada, because many problems on the cutting edge of science, physics, the weird and the wonderful, started at Area 51. But this time not in the labs where scientists tested the outer boundaries of man’s knowledge, occasionally traveling from genius to stupid at light speed (literally sometimes) and requiring the Nightstalkers to clean up their messes, but in the repository of the results of all those tests and so much more: the Archives. If the Ark of the Covenant was indeed found by some Indiana Jones type character, it would have been stored here and it would have fit right in with many of the other weird and wonderful and frightening items gathered from around the world and hidden away deep under the sort-of-secret-but-definitely-most-secure facility in the Continental United States.
Even though the CIA had acknowledged the place existed (it was on Google Earth now for frak’s sake), that didn’t mean they were holding an open house any time soon.
It changed with Ivar, or rather the sudden lack thereof, of Ivar. Which, considering Ivar’s recent history and what had happened during the ‘fun in North Carolina’, might not be as strange as it seems.
But Ivar, and Doc, who was with Ivar, at least initially, were both physicists, and they understood the law of entropy (or thought they did) and knew when something was taken away, something was returned in kind (or thought they knew).
At least a distorted law of entropy, which Doc would come up with later. Sort of.
If there was a later.
Nightstalkers: The Rift
It changed at the Ranch, outside of Area 51, on the other side of “Extraterrestrial Highway”, but still pretty much Nowhere, Nevada, known to only a few as the headquarters of the Nightstalkers, in such a small way, that it was only because Eagle had a hippocampus twice that of a London cabbie and the resultant phenomenal memory, that it was noticed at all. Noticing didn’t mean awareness though.
Which meant Eagle was going to have to learn something new.
If he was given the time.
WHEN IT CHANGED (from Time Patrol) published next Tuesday
It changed for Scout, now eighteen years old and almost two years past her first encounter, run-in, kerfuffle, whatever, involving the Nightstalkers, with a whiff of bacon. She’d only smelled real bacon outside the confines of her home; never inside. Inside it was always fakon, vacon or one of the other imposters. If you gotta fake it, Scout had always reasoned, ever since she was old enough to reason, which had been pretty dang young, then isn’t imitation the sincerest form of flattery and one should go with the original? Her rail-thin Mother, who counted each calorie as if they were mortal sins, did not see things that way.
Thus the mystery of the odor permeating the house.
For a moment Scout lie in bed wondering if perhaps it was wafting in from the old house next door, the one with the barn where she stabled her horse, Comanche. Out of the old stone chimney. People with a barn and a stone chimney had to eat bacon.
But in this relatively new house with its fake gas fireplace, with Scout’s Mother ruling the kitchen, with the aroma of honest-to-goodness real bacon filling the air, Scout questioned reality.
That’s a good trait, one the Nightstalkers had found valuable in the past and would need in the future.
If there was to be one.