Divine Artifact in a Scientific World

Jack's soul space self had pushed his time ratio to the max as soon as he learned about Darrel's plan. And at that moment, his soul space self re-synched their memories.

Darrel was an idiot, and his plan was already off the rails.

The thugs were more ambitious than Darrel had thought. While Darrel had told the thugs to just kidnap a few girls, the thugs had decided they were going to kidnap everyone at the party.

And one of the thugs turned out to be former military, dishonorably discharged, and had disliked the look of the ammunition Darrel had provided.

When they tested the ammunition and discovered it was fake, they procured their own working ammunition.

The thugs were already loaded up and on their way to the yacht club. So, soul space Jack was busy teleporting the fake ammunition into the thugs' already loaded weapons.

Jack pulled out his phone and looked at it, acting like he'd just received a message.

Then to the girl he said, "Sorry, I need to answer this. As for dancing, I'm fine with that, but Katie has priority."

The girl smiled, like she'd just won a prize, while Jack sent a text to John, old man Wallingford's head of security.

"where tf is lilys sec detail? shes crawling all over darrel westlock like a fly on shit!"

"where" came the terse reply.

"stetle yacht club"

"omw"

Absent Darrel's plan, Jack would not have cared if Lily had a security detail. But knowing the reality of the situation, having a few professionals inbound was sure to improve the situation. And no one would question why Jack messaged John.

Then he turned to Katie and said, "Katie, text your dad and tell him about Darrel."

"Now?" she asked.

"Yes. There's something about the way he's behaving that makes me nervous."

She pulled out her phone and began typing.

"Trouble?" asked one of the girls.

"I got a bad vibe from Darrel, the one Lily's hanging on to."

"Tell me about it," said the girl. "That guy looks like he belongs in the corner of a dive bar selling dime bags, not a yacht club."

Jack stifled a laugh. The girl had just nailed it.

"Um, Jack?" said Katie.

"Yes?"

She tilted her phone so he could see it.

"Take the yacht. Spend the night on the lake. Leave now."

Orin's response was decisive and, unknowingly, prescient.

Jack had thought of making an excuse and dragging Katie out of the club before the 'festivities' began. And here was the perfect excuse. He kind of wanted to be there personally, but his remote-presence technique was the next best thing.

To Kevin, Jason, and the girls, he said, "Katie wanted to give me a tour of their yacht, and her dad just gave permission. So, if you'll excuse us, I want to take a look before it gets dark."

As he and Katie turned and walked towards the exit of the ballroom, he heard Jason mutter dubiously, "Uh huh, sure. Tour."

He didn't warn the others because how was he going to explain to them, or the police later, how he knew about Darrel's plan?

Inviting the others to join him and Katie on the yacht also crossed his mind, but he was not about to let some relative strangers cockblock him.

He also considered pulling the fire alarm on the way out of the building, but the thugs were seconds away from pulling into the yacht club parking lot and the added chaos of people rushing out of the building while the thugs were rolling up might result in unexpected violence.

Besides, his soul space self had replaced all the thugs' ammo with duds.

Jack followed Katie as she led him down the hall, through the foyer, down a different hall to a stairwell, then down the stairs and out of the building.

At the end of a short walk on a concrete path, they had to pass through a gate to get onto the docks.

After Katie entered a code on the gate keypad, she led Jack down the wharf, past several piers, before turning and walking down a pier.

On either side were yachts of various sizes, but none seemed to be larger than about 10 meters.

At the end of the pier was a much larger yacht, about twice the size at around 20 meters long.

It was pleasantly warm for early September, but as they stepped out onto the pier, Jack had noticed that it was noticeably cooler near the water.

At the back of the yacht was a section that was almost level with the pier, and Katie hopped directly onto the yacht and beckoned for him to follow.

She then led him up a short set of stairs to what appeared to be the main deck of the yacht.

The main deck was covered and open only at the back. A C-shaped couch was at the very back of the boat, and a small L-shaped couch was next to a glass door that led to the interior. On the other side of the door was a ladder-like set of stairs.

"This is called a flying bridge," Katie said as she climbed the ladder-like stairs.

He followed, admiring the shape of her ass as she climbed the stairs.

What he found at the top was an area covered by a canopy, but with no windows or windshield. To the left was a C-shaped couch with a table in the middle, and on the right was a raised seat in front of a small dashboard with a throttle lever and a steering wheel.

"Have a seat. I'll get us untied, then we can be off."

"Do you want any help?" he asked.

"No, it will only take me a moment."

Then she dashed back down the stairs. She disappeared inside the boat for a moment, and when she came back out, she had replaced her heels with what looked like loafers.

She jumped off the yacht onto the pier, walked towards the front of the yacht and began unwinding a thick rope from a large metal hook. After she tossed the rope onto the yacht, she repeated the same with a rope at the back of the yacht.

She jumped back aboard the yacht, rushed up the stairs, plopped into the chair in front of the steering wheel, and pushed a button.

There was a muffled growl, and he felt a faint rumble pass through the deck of the ship.

She turned and grinned at him joyously.

"Dad insisted I learn everything needed to pilot this yacht on my own, and has let me do everything on many occasions, but this is the first time I'm actually being allowed to pilot solo."

She fiddled with a little paddle on the left side of the dashboard, and the yacht started to drift away from the pier.

Once they were about 5 meters from the pier, she grabbed two levers on the right side of the dashboard and pushed them a notch forward.

The almost imperceptible rumble increased slightly, and the yacht moved forward at a sedate pace, barely faster than a walk.

"I want to be excited about spending the night with you out on the lake, but I can't help but worry a little."