Luther Sloan opened his eyes. Above him, there was only a white ceiling. He turned his head slightly to his right side and took a glance. A white aseptic room with several instruments welcomed him. He recognized it immediately and relaxed. He was lying on a gurney at the same medical facility where he had been treated before several times.

Luther tried to move his hands, then his feet; except for the numbness, he was feeling fine. It was at that moment when he realized that he was alone, and that was odd. Before, there had always been a Section 31doctor with him. He figured he had no reason to worry, thought; he had probably woken up sooner than expected and the physician was busy working somewhere else. After all, the installation was a research center.

Slowly, he sat up; his movements were somewhat clumsy, as if he hadn't moved in a long time. It was always the same when he woke up after a serious injury. Idly, he tried to remember what had happened to him this time; he had to frown when realizing his mind was in blank. Maybe it was the shock of his last traumatic experience that blocked him from even having any memory of his last hours, or days.

Because he only remembered talking with Koval in one of their safe havens in the Romulan Empire. Did something go wrong?

Nevertheless, he seemed to be perfectly well by now. After some minutes of patiently waiting for someone to show up, Luther got down the gurney. He took another look at the empty room and turned towards the door.

Then another detail took his attention. There was a padd lying on the table closer to the exit. No one ever left a padd forgotten anywhere. His operatives were better trained than that. Immediately, Luther reached out for it. The padd, a Romulan one, was on, and in their language was written: Luther Sloan.

Luther's eyes narrowed while reading his name, and his heart rate increased inwardly. He was pressing the key to continue before questioning if it was a good move.

"Do you know who you are?" asked cryptically the next message, again in Romulan.

The question was annoying, and stupid, or at least that was what he thought. He wondered who dared to play games with him.

He had many Romulan acquaintances, of course. Koval, the man he had been talking to in his last memory, was the most important. He was far more than a contact. Koval, now in charge of the Tal Shiar, had had still many steps to climb in his organization when they had met; Luther was also starting in his own agency, Section 31. They had recruited each other and had cooperated since then. But Luther knew well where his loyalties stood, and even if he danced at Koval's tunes many times, and even sometimes considered him a true friend, he had joined Section 31 to serve the Federation. And the Federation he served, in his own way.

"Do you know who you are?" Still gleamed the alien letters. Yes, of course. And with slight anger, he went on with the message. A map appeared in the screen; with another press a three-dimensional version of it was formed in the air. Luther recognized it at the moment, because it was the facility where he was now. And at that same moment he realized the map had some additions he was unaware of; another level just below where he was staying. Some apprehension gripped his heart, but he was too used to control it, to remain impassive in almost any situation.

His mind kept cool, and Luther told to himself that the map had simply to be fake. He thought drily that someone was having some fun with that show, but that they would not laugh that much once he uncovered them. Another different level, that's outrageous!

After all, he had rebuilt the facility himself. He had learnt of the existence of an abandoned outpost in the Neutral Zone and had turned it into one of Section 31's bases. Situated in a moon that had been exploited for its mineral sources but had been depleted centuries ago, far way from any habitable area and out of hand of every commercial or military route known to him, it had seemed a perfect place to settle. He had left the buildings apparently untouched but inside he had created a modern medical research center. He had dedicated it to bioengineering; the Federation had outlawed it, but he had to agree with Koval that it was a really useful weapon. A vital one.

I wouldn't be such a good operative if it wasn't for my genetic enhancement, he reminded himself.

So he had shown Koval his lair and they had again joined forces. Both Tal Shiar and Section 31 had people working in the installation. After all, enemies could be good allies too. It was all a matter of perspective.

But this was his place. He had created it. He controlled it. Nothing went on that he was not aware of.

Suspicion arising, he took a look around the infirmary, and went to snatch a scalpel. Once he had it in his hand, he realized the unsleeved gown he was wearing did not left him much place to hide it. Luther kept it clutched in his left hand.

Other letters were appearing then on the screen: Do you want to know who you are? He tightly answered the machine, "I know who I am." But the words only echoed in his mind. And his thumb was actually accepting to continue.

Next, he was startled when Koval's voice filled the room. The recorded voice ordered a series of codes and before he had time to react, he was being beamed away. Taking a defensive position, he started to scan the room with all his senses once he began to materialize again. The first thing he noticed was the different tones that welcomed him; a greenish gray dominated the new walls, floor and ceiling. Romulan. And once the rest of the room took shape, he verified his assumption was true. He was again in a research center, but au contraire as his last location, all the instruments in the place were from and for Romulans.

His knife's blade shimmered at the new light, but no enemy was waiting for him. Alone again, he turned around, furious with whoever who was orchestrating the play and with himself, for letting that happen.

Luther did not recognize the place. He had never been there. He had never learnt of it. Besides, transporters were forbidden in the facility; he had inhibitors everywhere, and he was the only one authorized to deactivate them. Who is outsmarting me?

Whoever they were, they were not welcoming him. He turned around the empty room memorizing every detail. It was small and rather oppressive, and apart from the transportation area and controls, it had another series of panels that covered the lower part of one of the walls, and a door.

After another furtive glance at the closed door, Luther neared the instruments. The padd continued showing the same annoying message. He left it on one of the consoles and read. One of the screens was showing medical data: blood pressure, heart rate,… He realized the constants were that of a Human. He was not familiar with the equipment and tried pressing some of the keys. Unfortunately for him, the screens blackened to ask him in gleaming letters for an identification code. An alarm raised. Luther cursed aloud. He spoke in Romulan repeating the words Koval's voice had pronounced to beam him up. No luck.

And then the discarded padd spoke again. Another code, another from Koval.

Luther was tenser each moment that went by and could not find a way to relax. He hated the feeling of not being in control. He took the padd and glared at it; irrationally, he smacked it against the instruments. Somehow, it made him feel better. Holding it in a tight grip, Luther spoke softly to the small device, "I don't know who you are, but you are going to pay dearly for this act."

And his cold blue eyes settled again on the console. The screen had gone back to show the same readings, but this time, when he pressed the keys, they obeyed him. He moved around was seemed a menu. "Show subjects," one of the options offered. It seemed a good one. In Romulan, Luther agreed. Ok.

Soundlessly, the wall before him flickered and changed its color. From the uniform gray turned into a multicolored view. 360º around him a new larger room had appeared, and only the outlines of the former walls and the door could be seen.

The point of his knife threatening any possible foe, Luther turned around studying the area. Not surprisingly, he was alone once more. He reached out for one of the former walls. They were still there, as solid as before. A transparent material, maybe, or just a hologram, playing the illusion of being trapped in that small room inside the larger one that he could only see.

He went for the door. It would not let him out. He walked back to the instruments' panel, looking for the correct order. "Open the door", "Switch off the holographic projection",… There had to be one command hidden in the many options. And there were many, and they were weird. The possible orders penetrated Luther's mind and were hardly registered. He focused in his objective: getting out.

Open the door.

And once more no sound came and nothing changed when the order was supposedly executed. Cautiously, Luther neared the door's area and stretched his left hand, his scalpel coming first. No opposition came this time. Luther went into the larger room.

Two big tanks situated in front of the inner room's controls centered Luther's attention. One of them was empty; the other one, however, contained a fluid, and a man. He floated, naked and still, and from his former position he could only see his back. Several vials and electronic devices were attached to his body, and unmistakably, he was the subject being monitored.

The presence of the man in the tank did not really disturb him. He had lead many scientific projects, and several people had been subjects to them. Luther had submitted himself to a DNA resequencing when he was a kid; it had been his parents' desire, and he had never resented them. But this installation was unknown to him, and so was the nature of the experiment. Luther, impassibly, turned around the tank to look at the man's face… and found out he was looking at himself.

In shock, he was inwardly thrown back. Quickly, he recovered, and he gazed back at the man in the tank, trying to keep his usual dispassionate attitude. The other man's eyes were closed; it made everything easier. However, again, he could only conclude that the man looked just like him. He was probably a clone.

Luther kept in one hand the scalpel, and in the other one the padd; he grasped them tightly, rage boiling in his veins. He wanted no clone. His normally cool eyes were injected in blood, as fury threatened to overcome him. He hadn't authorized anyone to get a clone of him. He wondered what purpose the other man could serve. Romulans were untrustworthy people; he had always known that.

He took a walk around the empty laboratory. He knocked lightly one of the walls and wondered if it could also turn transparent and show him suddenly that he was again in a bigger space, as if it were a strange labyrinth designed only with the sole purpose of enraging him. He placed his gaze then in a known element; he had seen many of them in the research areas the Romulans worked in. A big container of DNA's samples was there for him. It opened without needing any code and hundreds of perfectly set lab tubes laid before him. Luther noticed all of them were labeled. He took one of the freezed samples and took it around.

Sample: 32.010 Subject: Luther Sloan

A shiver ran through his spin. As quick as he could, he left the tube in its place and took another one, and then another. Each of them had a different number, but all of them had the same name, his name.

His angry stare turned again to the padd and its cryptic message, "Do you know who you are?" And for the first time, he doubted, and a dark foreboding grew in the depth of his mind. A cold sweat covered his pale skin.

"Ok, so let's say I don't know who I am," he spat at the inanimate device, "Who am I?" And pressed the continue button several times.

The sole question, the sole existence of the slightest doubt unsettled him. He had based his life on knowledge, and in the power he held over others thanks to that knowledge. Now, he found himself in an intriguing laboratory seemly designed for him, led by a ghost that sent him messages through an anonymous padd.

Stubbornly, Luther told to himself that he was the spider, not the fly. He had always been the spider, and he knew well who he was. But also undoubtedly, he was in another spider's web, and the other spider was speaking again. This is who you are. Luther felt nausea.