19
The grating sound of metal being slid across the stone floor brought Derek out of the dark comfort of unconsciousness. Cracking open one eye, he took in the same Tamplian that had brought his single daily meal since his stay in F-4 began. There was no hesitation, no looking to see if the prisoner was alive. Just the same movement of disarming a small portion of the force field, sliding the meal tray inside the cell, then reactivating the field before moving to the next prisoner.
Stiff muscles from the cold of the floor and coughing from the stale air accompanied Derek as he pushed himself to a sitting position. Resting his elbow on his raised knee, he shoved his hair from his face. His attention was drawn to the small circumference of his bicep, then the hollowness of his abdomen belo
