A/N: Here you go Vicky. Hope the wait wasn't too long.

Oliver had lost track of the number of times people had tried to shoot him during his relatively short life. Folks had started firing guns at him even before he was The Green Arrow – back when he'd been shipwrecked on the island - so he'd been a target for somebody or other for over ten years. He guessed he'd been in the crosshairs hundreds of times, if not thousands.

And after a decade of being shot at, the one thing that continued to surprise him was how many thoughts could race through his mind before a bullet came to a stop (either in him, or preferably, in another object). A bullet moves at roughly 1700 miles per hour, more than twice the speed of sound. But even travelling that fast, its speed is finite; governed by quantities like weight, power, and air density. Thoughts, on the other hand, are not subject to these laws. Thoughts are like Barry Allen; they flash around the brain like lightening, a new one starting up before the preceding one is finished. And maybe because Oliver had so much experience facing bullets, he was more adept than most at thinking when they started flying.

All of which meant that his head was pretty damn busy when he saw the woman who looked like Moira Queen raise her arm and point her pistol. Images of his mother's death came to mind, followed by the notion that Felicity's trip to 1884 may have changed the timeline and he was living in a world where his mother was no longer dead. His mom had shot him once before - back when she had encountered The Arrow and had not known that he was her son. There was nothing to say she wouldn't do it again. This idea was quickly dismissed, however, when he remembered that he wouldn't know of his mother's death if the timeline had really changed.

In the end, the thought that surfaced to the top in milliseconds and replaced all the others was not about his mother or himself. It was about Jiya and the promise he had made to protect her. He could still hear Agent Christopher's voice over the comms: You'll make sure nothing happens to her?

Damn right he would.

Jiya had been standing directly behind him, but Oliver sensed that she had moved to his side when he had fired his arrow at the man, which meant that part of her body was now exposed through the office doorway. The woman was lifting her pistol from a distance of about twelve yards; a reasonable shot for a trained marksman but not at all a certainty for an amateur. Oliver wondered which one his mother's doppelganger was - the marksman or the amateur?

He decided he wasn't going to wait to find out. As the woman's pistol arm swung upward, he spun and grabbed Jiya by the shoulders, pushing her away from the door and toward the floor of the office, covering her body with his as they fell. They landed hard on the cement at the same instant that he heard the crack of the gun, with Jiya making a sharp hiss as the air left her lungs. He felt no searing pain, and looking at Jiya's face, didn't see any sign that she had been hit either. She looked frightened but otherwise unhurt. They lay behind the cover of the office wall, out of harm's way – at least for the next few seconds.

Emma Whitmore was not so lucky.

"Son of a bitch!" she screamed.

Keeping Jiya covered with his body, Oliver rolled just enough to look over his shoulder and up at Emma's chair. The woman was still seated, but now there was a red stain spreading rapidly over her left upper arm. She stared at it, her expression a mixture of shock, anger and agony. With her hands cuffed behind her, there wasn't much she could do except watch the blood flow down her arm and begin to drip off her fingers.

His mother's doppelganger stepped through the office doorway.

"Oh Emma," she said, gawking at the still-growing red stain.

"You shot me, Carol," Emma said through clenched teeth. "What the hell were you thinking?"

Carol, Oliver thought, and searched his memory for any mention of a Carol on his mother's side of the family. No one came to mind.

"I didn't see you," Carol replied to Emma. "I just saw the intruders in the doorway of the office and reacted when they shot at Nicholas. I didn't know you were sitting behind them. I'm so sorry."

Oliver noted that while she sounded apologetic, Carol didn't appear entirely guilt-ridden by Emma's injury. Nor was she rushing to Emma's side to un-cuff her or examine the wound. She simply stood there as Emma glared at her, as if weighing her options for her next move.

A little friction in the ranks of Rittenhouse? he wondered.

Carol turned from Emma and stared down at the floor where Oliver lay, still protecting Jiya with his body. "Up," she said crisply, waving her pistol at him. "Get up." She made no move to free Emma.

Oliver looked into Jiya's eyes and she gave a tiny nod, as if to say, let's deal with this. He nodded back, then rolled off her body and stood, giving the girl a hand to help her up. He stood between Jiya and Carol and stared at Carol as frankly as she was staring at him. It was eerie how much she resembled Moira Queen. There was a slight difference in eye color, he realized, and a subtle variation in a few of her features, but the resemblance was uncanny. It was hard to imagine an explanation other than common DNA.

"I see you've found a new friend, Jiya," Carol said. "What on earth made you decide to recruit The Green Arrow?"

She even sounded like Oliver's mother. Her voice was cool and a little detached, as if she were showing polite interest at a cocktail party instead of pointing a pistol.

Oliver squeezed Jiya's arm. I've got this. Jiya looked at Carol with distaste and then back at Oliver, and nodded again.

Carol redirected her gaze to Oliver. "Why are you here? And why are you attacking us? We've done nothing to you."

Hearing her voice, he felt an urge to tell her about Felicity; to tell her about all the things that had happened in his life since Moira had been murdered four years ago. That's not Mom, he reminded himself. That's a woman who just tried to shoot you, and who's blocking your way to Felicity. Be careful.

"I have no wish to attack you," he said quietly.

"I find that a little hard to believe. You just shot my colleague." She pointed outside of the office, to where the man Oliver had wounded a minute ago was examining his hand.

Oliver shrugged. "Only a glancing hit, just to get him to drop the gun. If I'd wanted him dead, he'd be dead. And I could have shot you by now, too, if I'd really wanted to." He made a small gesture with his bow, reminding everyone that he was still armed. "Clearly, I don't want to do that."

Her brow furrowed. "Then why are you here?"

Before he could answer, the man stepped through the doorway. He was somewhere in his early thirties, Oliver guessed, and he was holding his right hand with his left, cradling it to his chest. Oliver's arrow had produced an angry slash across the knuckles but the wound did not look deep. It wasn't bleeding like Emma's arm.

The man's gaze took in Oliver and Carol before moving to Emma and her blood-soaked sleeve.

"Oh, Emma."

It was the same thing Carol had said, but the man's sorrow sounded a little more heartfelt.

"Let me untie you," he added.

He knelt next to her chair and pulled a folding knife out of his pants pocket. Then he awkwardly sliced through the zip cuffs, his injured hand hindering the process. Emma grimaced as she straightened her arms and brought them forward across her chest. After a minute, she gently fingered the wound in her left bicep.

"Is the bullet still in there?" the man asked.

Emma tentatively probed the arm. "No. Pretty sure it went straight through."

"Good." The man appeared satisfied. "It should be okay after we bandage it, then. No need for a doctor." He sounded less concerned.

This group isn't big on sympathy, Oliver thought.

The man turned to study Oliver with an expression of mild curiosity. Then he turned to Carol. "Has The Green Arrow told you why he's here?"

His voice was calm but demanding. Whoever he was, he believed he was in charge.

Carol shook her head. "Not yet. We were just getting to that."

"He called her, Mom," Emma said suddenly.

"What?" Carol turned quickly to gape at Emma. For a few seconds, her composure slipped.

"He called Carol, Mom," Emma repeated, speaking to the man and avoiding Carol's eyes. "I heard him whisper it under his breath. That's why he lowered his bow."

The man nodded thoughtfully.

"You don't seem surprised, Nicholas," Carol said. "I realize we've…altered…a few things as we've traveled, but to the best of my knowledge I've never had a son - not in any timeline. Is there something I should be aware of?" Her composure was returning.

The man she'd just called Nicholas gave her a long, considering look. "If he's who I think he is, then I'm quite certain we are related."

We? Oliver thought. Who exactly are we?

"Which means," Nicholas continued, "that he has Rittenhouse blood."

The Lifeboat didn't have a mirror. Felicity wasn't sure that was a bad thing. Part of her wanted to see what she looked like as an 1880's woman; another part was certain that the clothes were ridiculous on her. She'd worn plenty of long dresses in her life, but they'd all been distinctly twenty-first century – soft materials that clung to her body and flowed elegantly to the floor. The dress she was wearing now was made of stiff cotton that could probably stand on its own in a rainstorm. The bodice wasn't too bad; it fit snugly and showed no cleavage. The skirt, however, flared out dramatically at the hips before dropping straight to the ground. She had a feeling that her silhouette resembled a bell. Not to mention that the corset and bustle were pretty damn uncomfortable.

Felicity had wanted to stay in her jeans and tunic but Lucy had insisted that she change clothes.

"You can't wander around 1880's New York wearing jeans," she'd said. "You've already made Tesla rethink his plans. God knows who else you might influence."

"I wasn't trying-"

Lucy had held up her hand. "I know. I'm sorry - I didn't mean to make it sound that way. None of this is your fault, Felicity. It's just lousy luck."

Felicity tried once again to examine her reflection in the console of the Lifeboat before giving up and turning to Lucy in the cramped confines of the ship. Wyatt and Rufus were waiting outside in Central Park, happy to be at a safe distance from anything to do with women's fashion. "Well?" Felicity asked.

Lucy studied her. "It's not bad," she said. "The dress mostly hides your boots so I don't think anyone will notice your footwear. Unfortunately, your glasses are not nineteenth century, but there's nothing we can do about that. You have to be able to see."

"Yes, I do," Felicity agreed. She looked down at the yards of pale blue fabric surrounding her legs. "I apologize for anything bad I ever said about polyester," she remarked.

Lucy laughed. "I've travelled to the nineteenth century quite a few times now. I guess I've kind of gotten used to the clothes." She glanced over her shoulder at her own backside. "Although I'm not crazy about the bustles. I found it easier in the early 1800's when they weren't in fashion."

She stepped closer to Felicity and gave an experimental poke at the pins holding Felicity's hair in a low bun. Then she stepped back and eyed Felicity one more time. "I think you'll do. Let's see what the boys have to say."

Lucy turned and climbed out of the round porthole that served as the door of the Lifeboat. Wyatt was there in an instant, putting his hands around Lucy's waist and lifting her down. Felicity followed, moving carefully to ease the wide bustle of her dress through the small opening. To her surprise, Rufus hurried over and held out his hand.

"It's a big step down," he said with a grin.

Felicity nodded and clasped the offered hand. "The dress doesn't help." She slid awkwardly down the side of the Lifeboat, clinging to Rufus the entire way.

When she had both feet on the ground, Lucy gestured at her. "Well, guys? What do you think?"

Wyatt gave a low whistle. "She looks pretty 1880's to me. Where'd you manage to find the clothes, Luce?"

Lucy gave him a rueful smile. "I…liberated…them from a clothesline. Apparently it's laundry day on the east side of the city."

Wyatt and Rufus both laughed.

Felicity was glad someone was finding humor in the situation. "So, what do we do now?" she asked the group in general. "We're supposed to be locating Tesla and getting him to change his mind about working for Edison. Normally when I want to find someone, I check to see if he's just used his credit card or I hack into security camera footage. Those aren't options here."

Wyatt frowned. "What is it that you do, exactly, that has you hacking into security footage to look for people?"

"I-" Felicity stopped. She was getting so comfortable with Lucy, Wyatt and Rufus that she was starting to feel like she was at home, working a mission. She'd forgotten that the Time Team didn't know she supported (and was married to) The Green Arrow.

Fortunately, Rufus supplied the answer. "With Felicity's computer skills," he said cheerfully, "why not hack? If I were that good at breaking through firewalls, it's what I'd do."

Wyatt didn't appear entirely satisfied with Rufus's explanation but – to Felicity's relief – didn't pursue it. "Well," he said flatly, "since we can't find Tesla online, we're going to have to do it the old-fashioned way."

Felicity raised one eyebrow. "Which is?"

Wyatt shrugged. "We take a guess and walk there."

It sounded inefficient but Felicity didn't have any better ideas. "So where do we think Tesla would go?" she asked.

"You're the only one who of us who spoke with him," Lucy replied. "Did he say anything that gives you an idea?"

Felicity tried to recall her conversation with Tesla. "Yesterday was his first day in America," she said slowly, "and I don't think he mentioned having family here. So he's alone in the city and he doesn't have anyone that he would visit." She paused to think. "He's from Serbia," she added. "It would be natural for him to want to be with people from his home. Is there a Serb neighborhood in 1880's New York?"

It was hard to miss the way the men looked at Lucy expectantly. Felicity wondered if the historian ever got tired of having to produce answers.

Lucy shook her head. "There's no Serb neighborhood," she said confidently. "There's Little Germany, but I don't think that would feel at all like home to him."

"What about the train station?" Rufus suggested. "If he wants to go out west, wouldn't that be his next stop?"

"Maybe," Wyatt said thoughtfully. He stared at Felicity and then frowned. "Except that he made a date with our friend Felicity, here, for supper. I think he's going to keep that date."

Felicity shook her head. "I hadn't intended to actually meet him. I told him I would have supper with him just to make him stop following me. To be honest, I was hoping I'd be back in my own century by supper-time tonight."

Wyatt grinned. "Sure - but he doesn't know that. As far as he's concerned, the two of you are connecting at – when?"

Felicity grimaced. "Six o'clock."

"There you go," Wyatt grinned again. "Six o'clock."

It was only eleven in the morning. Felicity took a deep breath and felt the corset constrain her rib cage. "So, you're saying we have to wait around and do nothing for seven hours until it's time for me to meet Tesla?" She pinched the bridge of her nose with her fingers. "I'm not sure I can take it. My husband must be frantic by now and I'm not far behind him. I'll go crazy – especially wearing this get-up." She gestured at her dress.

Wyatt shrugged. "We can walk around Central Park and see if we run into him," he said. "If he's new to the city and doesn't have friends, there's a chance he'll be back here before six. It's the place where he met a friendly face."

"I don't know," Rufus said slowly. "We're trying to avoid changing history. Maybe it's best if we all keep a low profile – just hang out here in the woods by the Lifeboat til six."

"History has already changed," Wyatt said. "Tesla's decided to go west, which means he won't work with Westinghouse and the general public won't get electricity for a long time. How much worse can we make it just by walking around the park?"

The four of them looked at each other. "Fine," Rufus eventually said. "We walk around the park. But let's try not to talk to anyone other than Tesla."

Wyatt nodded. "Agreed."

"Oh good God," Emma said, shaking her head. "There the two of you go again, talking about Rittenhouse blood. As if the rest of us who sacrifice for the cause don't matter." She stared pointedly at her wounded arm as Nicholas wrapped a strip of white cloth around it to staunch the bleeding. She hadn't gotten up from her chair and her face was pale. Oliver wondered how much blood she had lost.

Carol remained standing with her pistol trained on Oliver and Jiya. She was eyeing him with a curious expression, though, and didn't seem especially determined to shoot him. Jiya was staring at him, too, but she lacked Carol's poker face. She appeared frightened - more by the news of his Rittenhouse connection, he guessed, than by the pistol pointed at her. There was nothing at all from Agent Christopher over the comms. He figured the older devices had given up the ghost, leaving Jiya and him on their own.

"Who are your parents?" Carol asked him.

Emma rolled her eyes and snorted, "He wears a disguise for a reason, Carol. I don't think he's going to start discussing his family tree with strangers."

Carol didn't respond, but her expression morphed into a look of pinched annoyance. It was similar to the expression Moira Queen used to make whenever Oliver got suspended from school. He reminded himself once again that she was not his mother.

Nicholas tied the ends of the bandage in a knot around Emma's arm and then straightened. "Now Emma, let's not pretend that we haven't been following The Green Arrow," he said coolly, "and that we haven't seen the news about who the FBI suspects him to be."

Emma shook her head. "To be honest, Nicholas, I haven't been paying that much attention. I read about The Green Arrow online because you asked us to, but he hasn't exactly been an obsession for me."

Carol ignored Emma. "Oliver Queen," she replied to Nicholas. "The Star City news says the FBI suspects Oliver Queen of being The Green Arrow."

Nicholas nodded. "Precisely."

Oliver didn't say anything. He wasn't about to confirm or deny his identity. He wanted to hear why this man, Nicholas, was interested in him at all.

It wasn't clear to Carol either. "I'm sorry, Nicholas," she said, "but why would you think Oliver Queen has Rittenhouse blood? I don't understand."

"I wouldn't expect you to." Nicholas smiled. "It goes back decades before you were born. Back to 1917, shortly before I left for the war in Europe." He took a few steps closer to Carol as he continued, "A couple of months before I left for France, I had an affair. It didn't mean much. Your mother was still quite young, she was our only child, and my wife was obsessed with taking care of her. She didn't have time for me. And I suppose like most men about to risk death, I felt a need for some kind of human connection before I went into battle." He said it as if he were disappointed at himself for needing other people.

Oliver tried to make sense of what he had just heard. The man in front of him, who looked no older than Oliver, had been a soldier in 1917? That would place him in World War I and make him somewhere in the vicinity of 130 years old. They have a time ship, he reminded himself. It's possible that someone pulled him forward in time. But what did he mean by saying to Carol that her mother was his only child?

Oliver worked through the relationships in his head. It meant, he realized, that Carol was Nicholas's granddaughter. He stared at the pair and felt an urge to laugh. Nicholas looked young enough to be her son when he was, in fact, her grandfather.

Time travel does some weird things.

"Not long after my unit arrived in France," Nicholas went on, "I received a letter from the woman telling me she was with child. She was married and could pass the baby off as her husband's, so I didn't think much about it. However, ever since you brought me to this time, I've been wondering what became of that child - my child. I used that electronic tablet you gave me to do a little research."

"And?" Carol prompted. She sounded nervous.

"And the woman had a daughter," Nicholas replied, "who grew up and eventually married Jonas Dearden. And then my daughter and Dearden had a daughter of their own; Moira – who is my granddaughter and your cousin." He frowned, "Or maybe, technically, your half cousin. I don't know if there is such a thing."

Moira Dearden. Later Moira Dearden Queen, Oliver's mother; which meant that the man standing in front of Oliver now was his great-grandfather.

"You're certain about this?" Carol didn't sound happy. "You can find a lot of garbage on the internet."

Emma laughed. "Oh dear, Carol, are you worried that Nicholas has another granddaughter propagating Rittenhouse genes? Does it upset you that you're not the only one?"

Nicholas didn't spare Emma a glance. "I'm quite certain it's true," he said flatly to Carol. "I found the information from several sources. And I found Moira Dearden's photograph." When Carol just looked at him he added, "The two of you could be sisters – twins, really. You are that similar. It's a testament to the strength of Rittenhouse blood."

Carol's brow furrowed deeply. "But what does all of this have to do with The Green Arrow – and with Oliver Queen, if that's who The Green Arrow really is?"

Nicholas smiled again. "Moira Dearden Queen was Oliver Queen's mother. Which would make Oliver my great-grandson and a direct descendant of David Rittenhouse."

Oliver heard Jiya inhale sharply.

"Was?" Emma repeated. "She was his mother?"

"Yes," Nicholas replied. "Moira was killed a few years ago. It's a shame, because from what I read, she was willing to do what's necessary to change society when it needs to be changed - even if it means breaking laws or sacrificing lives. Had she known of us…of her heritage…she could have been a true asset." He shrugged. "But then it's also clear that she passed that trait along to her son – assuming Oliver Queen is The Green Arrow. The man is a vigilante, after all."

There was a pause as Emma, Nicholas and Carol gave Oliver an assessing look.

"And you're certain of this – of all of this?" Carol asked Nicholas again.

"Quite certain," Nicholas affirmed.

Oliver's mind was racing as quickly as it had when he'd been facing Carol's gun. If he was to believe what Agent Christopher had told him, Rittenhouse was an organization bent on imposing its idea of order on the rest of the world. It was a notion most normal people would abhor; however, it was clear that Nicholas and Carol were dedicated to it. It was also clear that they saw Rittenhouse blood as some kind of badge of honor.

He wondered if he could use that. He'd been prepared to fight his way to the Mothership, but it occurred to him that it might be better if he leveraged his supposed Rittenhouse kinship to obtain cooperation. It would reduce the risk of harm to Jiya, for example, if everyone put his gun away. And it would be easier to concentrate on finding Felicity if he didn't have to keep a constant eye on Emma.

The Rittenhouse team was still looking at him expectantly and he realized the next move was his. He reached for Jiya's hand and gave it a brief squeeze. Play along with me here, Jiya. I need your help. She squeezed back, and he hoped that meant she understood. Then he lifted his arms and pulled the hood off his head, followed by the mask. He looked Nicholas in the eye and nodded. "Yes," he said shortly. "I'm Oliver Queen." He let the declaration hang there for several seconds and then added, "Should I call you Grandpa?"

Jiya eyed him warily and said nothing. Smart girl.

Nicholas smiled; but it was a cagey smile – confident and superior. There was no warmth in it. He was the kind of man, Oliver realized, who believed he was always the smartest person in the room.

"Oliver," Nicholas said. "Welcome to the family. This must be something of a shock."

Oliver nodded. "It is," he agreed. "But I have to admit it's also kind of exciting. I don't have many living relatives. It's good to meet one."

The smile remained on Nicholas's face. "Yes. Family is good. Blood is good."

"Oh, give me a break!" Emma burst out. "Ten minutes ago you all were ready to shoot each other and now you're having a family reunion?" She stood up from her chair. Oliver noted that her legs were a little unsteady. She's lost a lot of blood.

"Queen came here to steal the Mothership," Emma continued angrily. "You can't possibly be ready to trust him, just because you share a few strands of DNA."

It was the wrong thing to say. Nicholas turned and gave her an icy stare. "I'm perfectly capable of figuring out who can be trusted, Emma. And I don't expect you to understand the importance of blood in Rittenhouse. You're a hard worker, but you're not family." He turned back to Oliver. "Why do you want the Mothership?" he asked.

Oliver decided to stick with the truth. He'd learned a long time ago that even in a bluff, it was best to use the facts whenever possible. "There's someone who was sent to the past by mistake," he replied, "and I want to bring them back to the present, where they belong. To do that, I need a time machine."

"Who?" Carol asked.

This time, Oliver opted for the lie. He wasn't about to reveal that he wanted to retrieve his wife; it would give Team Rittenhouse too much leverage. He shrugged casually. "One of the guys who does technical support for my team. We need him. It'll take too much time for someone new to get up to speed." He hoped Nicholas's research hadn't been deep enough for him to suspect that Felicity was his technical support.

"How did he end up in the past," Emma asked suspiciously, "if you don't have a time machine yourself?"

Jiya spoke for the first time. "You put him there, actually, when you tried to travel to 1884 in the Mothership yesterday. You created a wormhole and he was pulled down it."

Emma's eyes widened and she sat abruptly in her chair. Nicholas and Carol shared a knowing glance. "He's in 1884?" Nicholas repeated.

Oliver nodded. "Yes."

"The part about the wormhole rings true," Carol said to Nicholas. "Emma aborted the landing yesterday because she saw some strange gravitational readings. We didn't know what was causing them."

Emma shook her head. "Maybe there was a wormhole," she said tightly. "But how the hell could Queen know that? Nothing I've read about The Green Arrow suggests he's ever been involved with time travel. How could he guess that his guy was sent to the past, and how did he wind up with Jiya, here? His story stinks."

Nicholas looked at Oliver expectantly. Once again, Oliver went with the truth. "There was a witness who came and told me," he replied. "The Flash was with my tech guy and got pulled down the wormhole with him. The Flash managed to escape; my guy did not."

There was a pause while Nicholas digested this information. Then he nodded. "It makes sense," he said.

"When The Flash told me what had happened," Oliver continued, "I asked my sources in the intelligence community to search for people with time travel capability and they came up with Connor Mason. Mason connected me to Jiya," he gestured at her, "and then she led me to you and the Mothership. So that's how I got here. And, yes, it's true I want the Mothership. But only to bring my guy home."

"And we agreed to help him," Jiya added. "It's a big risk leaving a technical expert in the past. All kinds of things can change. Agent Christopher didn't want to take that risk."

Another pause, as Team Rittenhouse absorbed this explanation.

"Why not use Mason's ship?" Emma asked. "Surely, the Lifeboat would work just as well?"

Oliver shook his head. "The Lifeboat isn't available. It's already on a trip."

"Where?" Carol asked sharply.

Oliver decided to risk it. "1884," he replied. He hoped he wasn't making a mistake.

Emma grinned. "They must have followed us," she said to Nicholas. "Good to see them wasting their time on a wild goose chase."

Nicholas didn't smile back. "I don't know," he replied slowly. "It's been eighteen hours. I would have thought they'd have figured out that you didn't land and be back by now. I'm wondering if they're up to something else in 1884."

"You think Lucy, Wyatt and Rufus are trying to change history?" Emma asked derisively. "Jiya just reminded us that they're the team that's supposed to preserve it."

Carol stood a little straighter. "Well, Lucy is from a Rittenhouse family," she said. "I wouldn't be surprised if she's decided to act like it."

Nicholas didn't appear convinced. "Lucy's never shown herself to be aligned with our cause," he said dryly. "There's only one way to find out what that team is up to. You have to go back to 1884."

Carol and Emma looked at each other. Neither one appeared particularly happy.

Nicholas turned to Oliver and smiled coldly. "It looks like you're going to get your wish, Oliver. You're going to travel in the Mothership."