Dark Side of the Moon

By FT Silver

What if a Superhero turns Superbad? The Dark Side of the Moon is a fast-paced adventure that portrays a Superhero's struggles with humankind and his longing for home. In Book 3 of The Adventures of the Titan, Huygen realizes that his time on Earth is running out and he seeks to return home to the moon Titan. While his world begins crashing in on him, he discovers a woman who makes his life worth fighting for. Huygen must protect her while taking on the world's biggest armed forces, who may have inexplicably formed an alliance with his arch enemy, Fernando Dominquez. The plot thickens as Huygen is forced to decide whether to save his adopted planet or his place of birth.

• Language: English
• Publisher: FT Silver
• Release date: Dec 21, 2013

Book preview

Chapter 1

Harold Blewitt sits at his cramped work-station typing his latest Huygen blog. He stares at the Washington Nationals hat leaning over the corner of his computer monitor. He smiles at the thought of his blog written a few days earlier, in which he formulated 100 reasons why the Titan should throw out the first pitch for the Nationals first game. He received nearly 400,000 hits on that post, not bad for a pint-sized Huygen blogger. The top Huygen bloggers attract around two million readers a day, while the mainstream bloggers receive around 300,000 hits. Harold has never generated more than 20,000 readers for a single post. He knew combining baseball with the Titan would garner a lot of interest, but not 400,000 readers.

Almost overnight, Harold had surged to the upper ranks of the Huygen bloggers. He was hungry for stardom, but also disciplined in his approach. His goal was to stay at that level or perhaps creep up just a few notches. Just like his previous blog, his next post had to be stimulating, fascinating, and thought-provoking.

Am I a Huygen fanatic? Not in the least. How can you be fanatical about someone or something that is as distant as a cloud moving past your backyard?

Who is Huygen? My intention is to answer that question.

He comes from the moon Titan, the largest of the more than 50 moons that revolve around the planet Saturn. The moon is 5,150 km across, making it larger than Pluto, larger than Mercury, and larger than all other moons in our solar system – with the exception of Jupiter's Ganymede.

When did Huygen arrive on our planet? Only a select few know. He was introduced to the world on September 29, 1985, amid growing speculation of an extraterrestrial being held by U.S. authorities. All that was told was his origin could best be placed by astronomers and scientists on the dark side of the Titan moon. That is to say, the side of the moon that our scientists have not been able to study. He was called Huygen, a name derived by Dutch astronomer Christiaan Huygens, who discovered the moon Titan in 1655.

Huygen was an immortal specimen, standing 6’ 4" and weighing a firm 280 pounds. The ridiculous outfit that he wore, an old blue and orange checkered button down shirt and cheap khaki dress pants, couldn't conceal his body’s chiseled frame. At first appearance, Huygen looked remarkably human, even Hollywood-like. He has all of the human body parts and they are all in the right places. It was almost as if his body was sculpted by a team of plastic surgeons, a popular theory that the public learned later was not far from the truth.

In 2000, a Russian scientist admitted that he took part in a project to redesign Huygen's alien body to better fit the human mold. The Russian was quickly silenced, and the actual bio-changes remain classified. Nevertheless, rumors spread of a seven-foot wide wing, a Giraffe-like neck, two additional sets of eyes on his palms and knees, and fingers and toes that looked more like mallets. Huygen was also rumored to have a thick coat of olive-green hair covering his entire body.

The one trait doctors could not alter was his grayish skin tone. Multiple layers of heavy makeup applied to his face and extremities could not obscure the underlying gray hue. Scientists theorized that Huygen’s skin color was a result of his home’s distance from the sun, approximately 1.4 billion kilometers. The doctors predicted that by living on Earth, with its closer proximity to the sun, Huygen’s skin would eventually add more pigmentation.

Where does he live? Many world leaders and wealthy members of society have donated villas, condos, and mansions to the Titan. He can enter and leave at his discretion, unnoticed and unbothered. And yet, most sightings have him dwelling in the slums.

Where does he eat? What does he eat? Or let's go one further, does he eat? Rarely is there an image of him ingesting food or drink, and yet, he must consume some form of energy to survive. Which brings me to my next question. How is he surviving living on a planet 790 million miles away from his home. Scientists have long been interested in the moon Titan because of its planet-like conditions, including clouds; an atmosphere comprised of methane, nitrogen, carbon, and oxygen; and possibly seas and mountains. Some scientists believe that Titan offers a graphic history of Earth millions of years ago.

In 1995, the Hubble Space Telescope captured the possible existence of liquid methane on Titan, similar to water on Earth, in pockets around the front side of the planet. These cavernous rivers scale around the dark side of the planet, where telescopes have been unable to follow. Some scientists speculate that the dark side of the moon could support life forms. However, no space shuttle has been able to reach the outer limits of Saturn’s moons, leaving Titan as much a mystery as its sole refugee.

Before you start packing, however, it is worth noting that Titan's surface registers at -298 degrees Fahrenheit, and the atmosphere is so rich in nitrogen and methane that it would literally choke a human in less than a second. Still, if Huygen can survive here on Earth, why can't humans adapt to the conditions on the moon Titan?

How did Huygen get here? The government has been silent on this large piece of the puzzle. The popular theory is that he was the creation of an alien/human conception somewhere in the galaxy and was sent to Earth as an ambassador. Others believe that he was the result of a hidden cloning experiment, and soon an army of Huygens will be up for sale to the highest bidder. Then there is the story of a young boy with superpowers whose spaceship crashed into a cornfield somewhere in the mid-western United States; haven't we heard that story before? How did Huygen arrive on Earth? That depends on who you ask and who supplies the best photography. Everybody is looking for fame.

Not me, I'm looking for facts. This man, I mean being, has been with us for more than two decades, maybe longer. He is a hallmark of justice, but does Huygen know that 76 percent of all criminals who he captures are later set free, mainly because he never testifies? Wouldn't that lead one to invoke street justice? Huygen spends his days and nights protecting the citizens of this world. How does he choose who to save and who to let perish?

How is it that he comes to the rescue of an assault victim in Baltimore on a Tuesday night, then 18 hours later is reportedly saving a child stuck in a well in Singapore? What are his guidelines? He has spent weeks fixing bridges and dams after a catastrophic Earthquake in Central America, but brush fires occur every day in California without so much as a peep of Huygen in the area. One thing's for sure, he's anti-politician and anti-war. One of the very few times he has spoken publicly, Huygen announced, there is no reason for war, no reason for men to battle over land that belongs to no one. I respect the leaders of this planet, but I do not agree with their necessity for the destruction of mankind and all the valuable resources of this planet.

Huygen is a very serious alien indeed. I do not think anyone ever heard him tell a joke. Not like he can halt a knife fight by saying, two prostitutes walk into a bar. And speaking of sexuality, what is his? Does he like women? There are many rumors that all these houses and villas are equipped with willing and very serviceable women. Every day at least one tabloid publishes the story of a woman who claims she is having his baby. I can't remember the last time I read about an Elvis sighting. Huygen has knocked him clearly off the tabloid map.

What makes him tick? What makes him so good? Why does he never get pulled over for drunk driving? Uh, strike that one. What is his motivation behind his dedication to goodness? Everyone has a breaking point, what's his? When will the day come when Huygen says, I've had enough?

Chapter 2

Harold Blewitt finishes his writing just as his boss strolls into his cubicle. He quickly closes the document and maximizes an image consisting of Internet lines connecting Yugoslavia and Croatia. He jots down program codes.

Are the Croats still down? his boss asks, peering over his shoulder.

Yea, they think it was a pipeline break that did it. I'm waiting for the repair report now.

His boss stares at Harold's screen for an eternity.

Doesn't he have something better to do? Why don't you go back to your X-box and leave me alone already. I'll wake you when we get back online.

Alright, let me know when we get back online, his boss orders, still staring at the screen, like a green ‘all systems go’ button will suddenly appear. You know how those Eastern Europeans are. They blame us for everything and when we come to help, we can't fix their problems fast enough.

How the hell am I supposed to know how Eastern Europeans are? I'm stuck in this dark quad 14 hours a day. I barely know how Americans are.

I'll come and get you when I receive the accident report. Hopefully, we'll get it before my shift ends.

Harold's boss shifts his eyes in displeasure. He is not a strong believer in set hours, just long days.

Let's just get them back online, alright Harold? he pats his employee on his sweaty back and strolls out of the room.

Harold waits for his boss to disappear up the stairs.

Why don't you get this back online, he retorts with his middle finger extended. I've been here for 14 hours waiting for those idiots to fix this hole. I'm not sleeping on the floor again this week.

The room quietly hums with running desktops and monitors. Harold checks the links and then returns to his writing.

Huygen, you are the key to my freedom. I find you, I find the answers and get out of this IT jail house.

Chapter 3

Southwest Washington, D.C. — 12:35 a.m. on a Wednesday night. A local 7/11 store, normally a 24/7 mart, is locked with the lights off. Inside, two armed men raid the cash register. A third robber methodically watches a rope-bound, 20-year-old store clerk and two customers – a young lady and a senior citizen. All three robbers are dressed in black, their faces distorted and barely visible through the amber stockings pulled over their heads. The two robbers disappear under the front counter, frantically banging away at a hidden safe. The third keeps an eye on the front door while his gun points at the victims on the floor.

How long is this going to take? yells the annoyed and angered woman as she firmly grips the shaking, sweaty hand of the man sitting next to her. The woman manages to pull out a couple tissues from her purse, and she wipes the sweat beading off the man's forehead. The man sweats profusely as he tries to breathe. He slowly loses consciousness, propping his back against the cereal aisle.

He needs water, you can at least let me give him some water.

The gunman dismisses her plea by waving his gun at her. The woman boldly pulls herself to her feet.

Lady, you better sit your butt down or I'll put you through four aisles, the gunman warns. I'm not screwing around here. I've allowed plenty of rope for you and your mouth.

The woman tries to stare down the masked man, but she starts shaking and slips back down to the ground. She glances at the man on the floor and notices that he has regained consciousness. She coaches the senior to take short breaths, keep his eyes closed, and think calming thoughts. But the man moans in pain as he grasps his chest. The woman opens a bottle of aspirin and hands him a handful of pills to swallow.

I can't swallow, he says with a rasping voice, my mouth is too dry.

Before the woman can make another plea, the gunman strikes her with a look of impatience, his eyes glowering with anger.

What the hell are you two doing over there? he yells. I could've robbed three banks by now.

The robbers take a couple more wild whacks at the locked safe and throw their metal bats to the ground. They pull out their guns and aim for the safe's monitor. Just before the triggers are pulled, they hear a rhythmic tapping at the front door.

The three robbers stare at the glass door, surprised to see a man nonchalantly waiting for someone to open the store. The robber watching the victims gestures for one of the other two to take his place. He shuffles over and stands next to his partner.

If they make a sound, any sound, shoot 'em, he says with a cold conscious. The man nods and grabs his gun with both hands. The leader motions for the other gunman to hide under the counter as he walks toward the front door.

Who the hell is this guy? Why is he knocking? Can't he see that we're freakin' closed?

The gunman slides the assault rifle in his pants and approaches the door. He eyes the mysterious man wearing jeans and a grey sweatshirt with the hood draped over his head.

Man, you picked a bad time to have a donut fix. The gunman shakes his head and pulls out his rifle. We're freaking closed, retard.

The man stares at the gunman, unwilling to budge.

Alright, you want to play games?

The gunman pretends to unlock the door with his left hand, as he raises his gun with his right. He pushes his finger on the trigger and the bullet explodes through the glass. The door shatters all around the man. The gunman covers his eyes during the blast, then stares in disbelief. The man pushes his hands through the shattered glass and grabs the robber.

What the hell!

The man pulls the robber toward him and grabs the gun out of his bloody hand. The useless rifle mashes into a ball of scrap iron as the man drops it to the floor.

You’re him! he pleads.

Huygen brushes the plea aside, instead listening for the chaos inside the store.

We've got hostages, one of the robbers screams in a nervous pitch. You better get the hell out of here.

The front of the store becomes silent, as one of the robbers grabs the woman by the neck and pulls her close. The robber waits and listens, his heart pounding ever louder. He hears a mild commotion, then sees a glimpse of his partner fly past him, smashing through the glass case holding cold beverages.

No way, I'm outta here, he says, releasing the hostage and jumping to his feet. He fires blindly at the front door, then peeks around the aisle. Huygen snatches the gun out of his hand and snaps it like a toy pistol.

I don't like guns' he confesses with freezing breath pushing out of his mouth. A cold rush moves quickly over the robber’s body. The frost moves past his fingers and up his arm to his shoulder and neck. He tries to run but his legs and hips are frozen solid. Huygen pushes the man into the back wall, shattering the ice all over his body.

Sorry about that. When I get angry my lungs fill up with cold air. I guess that makes me cold hearted.

Huygen quickly walks toward the third gunman, who is frantically looking for a way out of the store. He darts toward the back entrance, but a flash of frost beats him to the back door. The wooden door bursts into charred ice chips just before the gunman reaches for the handle.

The gunman drops to the floor in disbelief, pulling his knees to his waist. Huygen walks toward the first gunman, who is holding his dented back in pain.

First of all, I wasn't coming in for a donut fix, Huygen says. I just wanted to pick up a newspaper to see who won the baseball game. But now that you mention it, I am a little hungry.

Huygen lifts the gunman and effortlessly flings him across the store, his body crashing into a large refrigerator and dropping to the floor like a sack of sand. The severed wiring behind the refrigerator sparks a fire, which quickly grows from the grease on the floor. The flames snake up the counters and cause the heated box full of hot dogs to explode.

Are you all alright? Huygen asks the unnerved victims. The clerk and the woman nod as they loosen the rope around the clerk’s arms. The elderly man stares in disbelief – too ill to speak. Huygen watches the man shutter his eyes and struggle to cough as the black smoke starts to consume the back wall.

I have to get him to a hospital immediately. Huygen gently lifts the man into his arms. You two are safe now, but I wouldn't hang around waiting for the police.

Huygen gently pushes the elderly man over his shoulder as he walks toward the front door. In a millisecond, they disappear into the darkness outside. The two hostages cover their mouths as the smoke intensifies.

Never seen anything like that before, the woman notes, helping the clerk to his feet. He makes one hell of an entrance and exit.

The two step through the busted door and crawl into their cars. They depart just as three police cars pull into the parking lot. Four officers jump out and charge the door, cautiously entering the convenience store.

There's a live one back here, an officer shouts, brushing the smoke away from his face.

I got two over here, says a second officer, motioning his arms for assistance. He turns to his colleague. This one looks beat up bad and the one over there is in shock, frozen to the touch.

The officers scurry around the store looking for more victims as the smoke thickens. An ambulance and two fire trucks soon arrive. Paramedics pull the gunmen out of the 7/11. The warm, muggy night begins to thaw one of the gunman's frozen mouth. The paramedics wrap him in blankets as he screams in violent pain. Paramedics rush the other two gunmen into the ambulance.

This one has severe burns to the face, arms, and legs, the paramedic relates, turning to his partner. What's his situation.

He's barely conscious, reports a female officer. Both his legs are fractured, his right arm, his...

Just then the gunman sprays the paramedic with blood and mucous.

Oh man, it looks like his nose and cheek bones are broken as well.

A second ambulance arrives while the paramedics attempt to subdue the hysterical gunman. Two medics hold the gunman down while a third prepares a needle.

Don't give him anything, yells one of the paramedics from the first ambulance. He was sprayed with some type of climatic aerosol. Who knows what kind of reaction he’ll have to a shot. Just make sure his body temperature is rising and his vital signs are stable.

The paramedics pin the gunman to the gurney and flap the belts around his body. They check his vital signs and feel his temperature. One of the paramedics nods and they lift him into the ambulance. The second team follows suit, and both ambulances speed away.

Several hours later, the last of the firemen walk out of the extinguished building. Thick, black clouds hover around the 7/11, spraying the area with water and soot. Detective Panquin, a grizzly, bearded man in a dark brown suit, studies the remnants of the building. His large muscular arms folded, he patiently awaits a verbal report from his subordinates. He ignores their difficulty jotting down notes on the wet, sticky pavement. He doesn’t expect them to tell him anything that he hasn’t already figured out.

One thing's for sure, Huygen was involved, the officer notes. No doubt. The front door was shattered with bare hands and with little effort by the looks of the cracks in the glass.

From my best estimate, the female officer explains, he broke through the glass and caught the gunmen off-guard. He threw one through three aisles and still had enough momentum to crack the back wall.

Detective Panquin glides his hand through the few strands of hair left on his head. He listens intently as the rest of the scene is reported.

The fire started in the back, she continues. It appears to have been caused by a short in the tall refrigerator.

The young officer licks her thumb and flips through her notes. The frozen robber is a new one for me. I'm not sure what he did to him. It looks like...

It's his breath, Detective Panquin interrupts. His breath can reach temperatures colder than 100 degrees below zero and he can spray you like a can of Freon.

She stares at him in amazement. I've never heard of that before.

Detective Panquin scratches his shoes together, not wanting to divulge any more information.

I read about it in a case in the Netherlands, he says, deliberately stopping short. Her intrigued stare demands more information.

A madman took over a tourist bus in Belgium, he obliges. With little notice, he rammed the bus against the embankment looking over the Scheldt River.

The Detective explains that the man continued to ram the bus into the railing, trying to push the bus over the bridge. When the railing finally gave way, he backed the bus up one more time.

I guess he wanted to give it a good leap into the freezing water.

As the wheels began spinning, a huge gust of cold air flew in, draping the entire bus, he explains. The tires immediately froze, along with the doors, windows, and many of the victims. The police report speculated that Huygen was too far away to catch the bus from falling, so he panicked and tried to freeze the bus in its place.

The problem was that he also froze the section of the bridge that the bus was sitting on. Within seconds, the surface began to crack and the bus fell backward into the river.

Detective Panquin notes that Huygen was quick enough to lift the bus out of the water shortly after it capsized. Unfortunately, while he was moving the bus to safer ground, the bridge began to crumble and the cars dropped into the water one by one. Huygen was able to get all but one of the cars out of the water, but tragically, many people suffered from hypothermia and went into shock.

Twelve people died, but only four from the tour bus. Another 40 had to be hospitalized. The madman, of course, survived and received a moderate jail sentence mainly because none of the victims were able or willing to testify.

The female officer, her mouth wide open, stares at Detective Panquin in disbelief. He just shakes his head, understanding her astonishment.

It was truly an amazing event he adds. Several of the victims’ relatives filed a lawsuit against Huygen, claiming that their relatives could have survived the fall if Huygen didn't intervene. You believe that? Well, it's not the first time he was sued for a wrongful death or injury case.

She lowers her head in disgust. Detective Panquin grabs her shoulder and points to the blackened 7/11.

Look up at that building, he asserts. Now I guarantee you that the safe and cash register didn't have more than a thousand dollars in it. The three bank robbers were all young and probably inexperienced. Even though they were armed, I would bet my pension that they did not intend to injure the people they tied up. They were just looking for a quick score.

But they were still armed, the officer argues.

They were armed, he agrees, pointing inside the building, but look, they had two to three customers to take care of. One was tied and bound, which meant he wasn't going to cause any trouble. There were no signs of confrontation from the others. I mean, this is 7/11, not the OK Corral. This site was chosen because it was a quick, safe place to rob and dash. So, in the end the victims would have made a statement and gone home unharmed, 7/11 would have lost a half days’ worth of income, and the robbers would have another notch on their belt.

Detective Panquin sees that the young officer is anxiously trying to interject her thoughts.

Could something have happened, he continues. Yes. Would it be justice if these kids had gotten off Scott free? Of course not. But as you and I know far too well, there is too much crime and too many criminals to make this a perfect society. No one, not Huygen, Batman, The Hulk, and Flash Gordon combined can protect everyone from crime. What's important, what's really important, is that when crimes occur, we minimize the damage... starting with the victims.

The officer swallows her list of questions and decides to move on.

So what do we do now?

We file our reports, contact the local hospitals to see what types of patients they admitted in the last few hours, and send a letter to Huygen's publicist asking him to refrain from any more severe retaliation against criminals.

Really? I didn't know that Huygen ...

He doesn't, Detective Panquin sighs at his unsuccessful joke. He points his finger at her notebook and then points to his watch. She agrees and waves as he heads out in his unmarked squad car.

Freezing breath, unbelievable strength, and he can fly, she laughs. "That

Huygen is a bad mamma jamma."

Chapter 4

Traveling in the Earth’s ionosphere, the human body unknowingly moves at an accelerated pace, like the Earth revolving around the sun. A tranquil calmness prevails up here. No birds, no airplanes, no loud traffic, no humans. The world below is hectic, smog-laden, and dreary. If not for the wrenching pain in his arms from grasping the body directly below him, Rufus might think he died and his spirit is taking the shuttle up to heaven.

The trip is so peaceful, it harkens him back to the time he climbed Mount Whitney in the Sierra Nevada Mountains. Leaving his hiking partner behind, he made the last quarter-mile trek by himself. Every step made by the peppy 35-year-old adventurer was more exhilarating than the next. This was his moment in time, a chance to cross off the number one item on his list, even though most of the other 92 items were still waiting for their chance. Finding a small cubby, Rufus knelt down and pulled off his shoes. Surprisingly, the climate change between peaks had not affected his toes... yet. Rufus stopped for a moment to watch the sun dip behind the back of the mountain. Instantaneously, the temperature dropped to a shiver. Still, Rufus' feet were comfortable, as if they had their own motivation to move forward. His bare hands, however, started to crack.

Rufus removed his gloves and admired the cuts and gashes provided by the sharp, unforgiving rocks. His body may have been tiring, but his will and desire were strong. He was too close to rest. As he climbed upward, he dreamed of the moment when he would stand equal with the clouds. As he moved closer, he took a deep sniff, thinking the clouds would immerse some fragrance he had never smelt before. A fragrance that was pure and crisp, similar to fresh snow falling on the peak of a ski slope. But there was no smell, and there was no noise, just the sound of the wind racing across his body.

There were no clocks ticking in the background, no air conditioning units humming, and no birds chirping. When he reached the final few feet, he leaped to the plateau in exhilaration. He had finally, after more than two decades of planning, reached the top of his destination.

The world around him was his castle. To see the sun setting below, to see clouds moving under his shivering feet, to see stars sparkle like the Hope diamond, it was a date with heaven. Rufus knew he could not stay long. He had to find shelter before all the sunlight was gone. He had to make every second last a lifetime.

We're gonna’ come down in a few minutes, Huygen calls from below. How are you holding up?

Fine, Rufus replies, still basking in his memories. Take your time.

Huygen turns his head up to see, in a rare occurrence, a smiling passenger. Instead of fear or anxiety, there is a look of enjoyment. Rufus turns to the sky and laughs loudly at the confused expression on Huygen's face. Rufus promises himself that he will never forget this voyage.

A few hours earlier, Rufus was contemplating his funeral arrangements while being held hostage inside a 7/11. Everything happened fast after Huygen carried him out of the burning store. To Rufus’ amazement, as soon as he and Huygen lifted off, his crippling heart was given renewed life. The air injected adrenaline into his veins, pushing blood through his dying body. Despite Huygen’s assertions, Rufus refused to go to the hospital. No doctor, no shot, and no surgery could be more therapeutic than flying free through the clouds. Instead of being fitted for a casket, he is flying 10,000 feet in the air aboard the Huygenjet.

This is the fastest and smoothest flight I have ever experienced. No freebies, though. No nuts, no pretzels, no soft drinks. I'll have to talk to him about that. And while I’m at it, I'll have to bring up the whole 'grab my waist and hold on' concept. That may work for the ladies, but I'm way too old for that. I lost feeling in my arms 20 minutes ago.

Rufus cannot complain, though. Not with the altitude, coolness of the air, and the peace and serenity doing more for his suffering heart than a life's worth of aspirin. The flight is taking decades off his mind and body. He wears the free-spirited smile of a grad student walking to the podium to accept his diploma.

Rufus feels inclined to strike up a conversation with Huygen, but he senses that the Titan is quite reclusive. The only words out of his mouth the entire trip have been, do you still want to go to the hospital, we're gonna’ come down in a few minutes, and how you holding up?

For the past hour, Rufus has been unsuccessful at plotting their destination.

He finally notices a recognizable landmark appearing through the clouds:

the Manhattan Bridge.

Wow, New York. He must be taking me to one of his private