Considering: AU w/ jetfighter pilot witches. Justification: Sanya sat in a Su-47. Google that plane now! Its sex, personified. Or rather, planeified.

So I revised the chapter. For those that have forgotten from its altogether brief mention in the anime, Sanya's biggest concern, certainly before meeting Eila, was reuniting with her family, particularly her father. Much of her concern stems from her doubt that she will even meet him again, and here she (thinks) Eila has a way to answer this for certain.

Hopefully the tarot scene will feel more justified and the transition to the hangar less rushed. Though, any Eila ulterior motive to the previous bedroom scene probably wouldn't have dawned on Sanya, if it existed, considering Eila's outward cold and erratic behaviour.

Oh, and, this is still a flashback. A return to the present will be marked.

Chapter Three

"We have vegetable soup," said Eila, head in the refrigerator. "It's cold."

"That's fine."

Eila breathed a sigh of relief; she didn't dare try to light the industrial sized stove unattended. She looked through cupboards and drawers until she had found both a bowl and a spoon; having avoided the kitchen since she arrived, it took a fair amount of rummaging to find either. Luckily, someone had left the ladle in the cooking pot, saving her from further displaying her culinary ineptitude.

She dropped the bowl in front of Sanya, soup splashing up the sides, and slumped down opposite. Eila propped her chin on the palm of her right hand and scowled into the space beside Sanya's head.

Sanya looked at the soup. Large, soggy chunks of carrot, leek at potato floated about in a grey liquid of unappetizingly irregular consistency. She readied herself and sipped at a spoonful.

The girl had willpower, Eila noted; the only outward sign of the flavourful assault small wrinkles forming beside her eyes. "The Squadron Leader made it. Sakamoto isn't much of a cook. Only Commander Minna eats it, and seems to enjoy it too." Eila's stomach rumbled. "The rest of us are living off emergency rations until she finishes it. No cooking allowed while there's food left over."

Sanya ate in silence, deep in thought. She made it halfway to the bottom of the bowl before giving up. Eila grinned.

"Eila… please, will you read my future?"

Eila's eyes widened in surprise. "Wh- what?"

"I… want to know if I'll meet someone again…"

"Well… that's not something I can answer. I use tarot cards to tell the distant future, and they can't answer questions like that. You can only ask the tarot to guide you toward that goal."

"Then, would you ask what I should do?"

"It's a complicated reading. We don't have time." Eila's voice was colder than intended.

"Oh…" Sanya looked crestfallen.

A pang of guilt stirred something long dormant inside Eila; unsolicited generosity. "I… suppose we might be able to fit in a small, general reading and still finish the tour on time. Nothing big, ok? Just a card or two."

"Really? You'd do that for me?"

"I… guess. It's no big deal," Eila said to her shoes. "My cards are in my room. I'll go and get them. Wait here."

Eila rushed back to her room, clambered over her bed, picked her cards up from the bedside table, and was back out the door before it had swung shut. She paused to catch her breath outside the mess hall, unsure why she had run all the way. Embarrassed she might seem overeager; she stood about for long enough to disguise her rush as a leisurely walk. Satisfied the impression was given she didn't particularly care about this favour, Eila brushed nonexistent creases from her uniform, and headed in. She sat back at the table and checked the cards over, silent for several seconds.

"Those cards are precious to you, aren't they? I can tell… from the way you hold them."

Eila looked down at them, wondering. It was true; she held them like they were made from something much more valuable than card. "I've never really thought about it," Eila lied again. "I was given them a long time ago, but I could always get more. There's nothing special about these cards. The ability to read them comes from the person. So, one shouldn't get attached to them, right?" She held them out. "Here, you should shuffle them."

Sanya took them carefully, cradling them in her hands, and slowly set about shuffling them in unpractised but caring fashion. It took her a minute of concentrated effort to achieve what Eila could with a few seconds of absentmindedness. Eila looked on with puzzled interest.

"I'm finished."

"Now cut them."

"Cut them?"

"Split the deck into two or three portions and swap them over." Eila waited. "Ok, now hold the cards out."

Sanya held out her hands, and Eila clasped them between her own, surprising Sanya enough for her to jump a little. Shy and unfamiliar with tarot proceedings, Sanya said nothing in resistance. Eila knew she could have simply taken the cards and performed the next step herself, but the excuse the situation presented; to take hold of Sanya's hands, was too perfect to pass up. They were soft and warm, and Eila's mind soon started buzzing with unwanted thoughts; she told herself the connection would perhaps assist the reading, though remained unconvinced.

"We'll do a daily reading because you only check the first card and don't need to do a spread; I mean… lay lots of cards out…" She looked up into Sanya's eyes for the second time and couldn't help but blush. Sanya looked away.

"Eila…" Sanya's voice jolted Eila back to reality. "…what next?"

"Oh, ah, we ask your inner guide a question." Eila closed her eyes and composed herself. "Please give Sanya the guidance she needs for the day." Did I just say 'please'? It's just some witch's inner guide. I don't even baby my own.

Eila took the deck from Sanya, put it down upon the table, and took a card from the top, holding it so only she could see.

"Oh." Eila stared at the card; the Lovers, mind racing, head throbbing. Beads of sweat began to form on her forehead.

"What is it?" Sanya worried. "Is it bad?"

"Uh… no, it's not bad. Just, I drew this card earlier. Twice in a row is very unlikely. See, the corner is nicked. Shuffling wouldn't work very well on it, so it can't be trusted." Eila moved the card to hide it too fast for Sanya to focus. "It was an old deck, anyway. Who cares, right? I'll just get another." Sanya was still looking at the hand that held the card, so Eila tore it in half, scooped up the rest of the deck, and dropped them all into a pocket.

"I'm… so sorry," said Sanya after a pause, head hung. She looked so miserable Eila almost regretted her feint, for more than ruining her cards for some invented damage.

"It's no big deal. I said I didn't care about that cards, remember? They probably got damaged last night when I fell asleep without putting them away." Eila jumped up off the bench, looking for some distraction. "Come on, I'll show you the hangars. They're probably stowing your equipment right about now."

Eila walked in front, again not looking back but this time listening for footsteps to ensure Sanya was still with her. Outside the sun was already high in the sky; Sanya squinted uncomfortably and edged a few steps closer to Eila, eager to hurry back under cover, but still maintaining a distance; she had the impression Eila didn't want to be with her. Their walk down to the hangars took them down onto the cobblestone of the pier. Seagulls wheeled overhead in search of food.

Barkhorn and Hartmann were sitting on crates, talking, looking toward the sea, eating emergency field rations, mess kits in their laps. Occasionally Hartmann would throw a biscuit crumb, much to Barkhorn's annoyance and vocal behest, and the birds would swarm around them.

When she saw them approaching, Hartmann jumped up and skipped over, an evil glint in her eyes. Barkhorn looked on vigilantly, untrusting.

"Hello again, Sanya," she said, circling her like prey. "I hope Eila is taking good care of you."

Sanya nodded and looked to Eila for an instant. Erica pounced.

"Ha! Score!"

Sanya, arms pinned to her sides, cried out in surprise. It was cry cuter than Eila had ever anticipated. Trude, suddenly on her feet and by them, whacked Erica from behind, who recoiled, releasing Sanya's breasts.

"Ow, Trude! That hurt!" Erica rubbed her head. "There's no need for jealousy, you know I have feelings only for you."

"Quit joking around, Hartmann," shouted Trude. "Now go and sit back on the box like a good girl. And sit on your hands if you can't keep them to yourself."

Erica, retreating, looked at Eila and grinned. "Eila… your nose is bleeding. Funny, I thought you liked them b-."

"Sh- Shut up!" Eila wiped her nosebleed with the back of her hand and turned away. "Come on, Sanya." She hurried inside the hangar before Hartmann could embarrass her further, Sanya, now a little flustered and annoyed, in tow. "Ignore Hartmann. She's a jerk and a pervert."

The hangar was gloomy, much to Sanya's relief; the only sunlight inside a weak beam reaching from the mostly closed front sliding doors, illuminating a thick cross-section of the dust inside. As Eila predicted, an engineering crew were loading Sanya's equipment into storage. A gantry crane built into the hangar supports whirred overhead, carrying a crate. Definitely Sanya's; printed Orussian characters littered the box, and one large symbol universally understood: explosive hazard.

Eila stopped still, a vivid premonition exploding inside her mind, playing out in milliseconds. Reflexively, she turned and sprinted toward Sanya, who froze, staring, uncomprehending, as Eila dove toward her. The cables above creaked and snapped, depositing a crate of deadly weight and payload onto the floor below. The box hit the concrete hard, sending splinters flying like shrapnel. The blast came shortly behind, tearing through the hangar with a roar.