<span style="font-style: italic">The plan was simple, at the evening shift, as light was beginning to fade, they would enter their Mechs and head for the firing range during their free time. They would take a detour and make for the side gate and break out. Their driver would have to meet them somewhere else far from the base when their pursuers had given up. At least that was the plan.</span><br/><br/>The sun glowed orange outside, the sky dotted with clouds as the last of the aircraft faded into the distance. The lights came on, it was almost time for the change in guard shifts.<br/><br/>Delilah sat at the canteen table, her track suit worn over her flightsuit. Her gloved fingers drummed over the white synthetic surface of the table, her eyes were fixed on the monitor screens displaying propaganda videos. The canteen was empty at this point, most were either in the field already, returning to their bunks or moving to recreational rooms.<br/><br/>She liked being early, it gave her time to prepare and in this case she had been convinced by Grant to join them in their less-than-lawful activity. She clenched her fist and opened it, stretching her fingers, feeling uneasy seeing that she was the only one at the table so far. Perhaps this was a way to root out traitors? She wanted no part in this then. She retied her pony tail, the inactivity making her nervous. She glanced over her shoulders, getting to her feet to purchase a sandwich from the vendor. Something to do at the very least.<span style="font-style: italic">Something was not right here,</span>She thought to herself, getting back to her seat.