Dearka's gaze turned exceptionally sharp and cold. It was no longer the look exchanged when old military academy classmates fooled around, but the scrutiny unique to a ZAFT elite in red when facing someone of uncertain allegiance. His eyes swept over Nicol like tangible probes—taking in the Orb-issued pilot suit he wore, the Strike Gundam behind him, and Nicol's familiar yet strangely resolute face.
"Nicol," Dearka said slowly, his voice low and thick with suppressed anger. "I'm not as single-minded as Yzak, nor am I as easily provoked as he is. But..."
He paused, his expression darkening further. "You say you're not our enemy, but that doesn't add up, does it? Look at yourself. Look at that machine behind you... You're piloting the Strike Gundam, a killing machine developed by the Earth Forces, one of the culprits responsible for the deaths of countless comrades. You stand before us in it. That's reality. Doesn't that mean you intend to be our enemy?"
A cold wind howled past, lifting several strands of Nicol's green hair.
Faced with Dearka's blade-sharp gaze and Yzak's fury fierce enough to burn someone to ashes, Nicol showed not the slightest fear or hesitation.
The boy who had once been the quietest, gentlest, and even somewhat timid member of their group of four, who had only wanted to play the piano, now displayed a startling composure. Having passed through the abyss of death and been pulled back from hell's gates by Xia Ya, he had already seen through many things.
He shook his head gently, yet with absolute conviction.
"I have neither joined the Earth Forces nor betrayed PLANT."
Nicol's voice was not loud, yet it carried clearly across the empty wasteland. He spoke every word slowly, as though swearing an oath to heaven and earth.
"Y-you...! Are