The Journal of Michael Bekker
by Ulquiorra9000
A/N: Star Colonel Michael Bekker is an OC I've had in my mind for a while, but I never wrote about him, only thought of a few details. Now, I want to explore his career as a Clan warrior, with all its triumphs and pain, bloodshed and honor.
Entry 1: May 14th, 3044
Today, I got a scar.
Allow me to back up a bit. This journal should serve as the perfect place to store my thoughts and recollections in my life. Yes, I do have a fully-functional codex. But a codex does not look into my very soul like a journal can. Few others in my sibko even bother to write anything down like this, let alone a dedicated journal. But I've always found myself... expressive.
Now: back to the matter at hand. My name is Michael, born on February 20th, 3028, here on Arcadia, in the House of Bekker. What makes me such an interesting soon-to-be warrior worth reading about? you may ask. That is yet to be fully determined, actually. I am only sixteen years old, but already, I have made a mark in my sibko. And my sibko has made marks on me.
That scar. Yes. I mentioned it first, because it stands out in my memory today. It still itches on my skin, even after medical treatment. How did I get it?
Today, during physical combat training, Star Commander Vlendir once again showed his sense of humor by pitting most of the cadets against each other based on what would cause the most commotion. Face your problems, he always tells us, and conquer them before they conquer you. His message is clear, even through his speech defect caused by a missing chunk of lower lip.
Today was a chilly day, with a stiff breeze coming from the mountains to the west. The blood ran hot, however, in my veins. As it did in my sibkin. Star Commander Vlendir would have no less. In that funny voice of his, he strode around the open ground in front of our barracks, the ground packed flat by stomping boots over the years. The flag of Clan Ghost Bear snapped in that breeze, like the snarling bear was encouraging me. I like to think that.
A handful of Circles of Equals were drawn, and bitter rivals stepped into them to face one another. Never friend against friend in this sibko; Star Commander Vlendir. despite never earning his bloodname, hadn't retired from active duty until the age of thirty-seven. Quite a feat! He tells us every day that it is because he faced the fire of rivalry and pressure.
Can you guess, journal, who my fiery rival is?
Candace.
Her.
Over and over has she thrashed me in our sibko's training, and never failed to loudly boast of it. She, and a few others form this... group of thugs.. who seem to want to accelerate the process of weeding out potential warriors. Candace seems hell-bound to get me thrown out of training and into the merchant caste.
Today is the day. I stood opposite her in the Circle of Equals drawn into the hard dirt, twenty feet wide, a rather generous circle. Her eyes only showed contempt and scorn, and I tried to return the look. I am not sure whether I succeeded, but it did not matter once Star Commander blew his whistle and two dozen adolescent bodies crashed together into furious combat.
I clealy remember, in slow motion, how Candace took two steps toward me and executed that vicious roundhouse kick of hers. No matter how many times I attempt to block or evade that kick, she hits me with it. And today, I felt my ribs rattle when her boot hit me, and I was sent sprawling like some freeborn buffoon.
That breeze was toying with Candace's blonde ponytail as she towered over me, laughing. "How did a surat like you make it this far into training?" she said. I remember the words clearly. It is difficult to forget the feeling of Candace's voice grating on your ears.
I pushed myself off the ground and onto my feet, and I raised my fists. I said something to the effect of "I will prove you wrong, and you will pay for mocking me". At any rate, Candace's nasty smile widened, and I was sure that my words had fallen on deaf ears.
At that point, Candace assault me with her follow-up to a kick: hard jabs that attack you from unexpected angles. She has that effect, making your defenses feel too stiff and slow to properly react. The same applied here; I am still wincing as I write this, from her knuckles hammering my cheekbones, my jaw, my ribs, my shoulders. I was panting in the chilly air, my face hot as I weathered her assault.
I hit back.
Candace is made of stern stuff, to take the punch that I threw at her without wincing. I swear that my knuckles were more badly damaged from that blow than her ribs! And that distraction, that split second, is what Candace needed to strike me with a heel palm to stun me, and then knock me over once again.
At that point, Star Commander Vendir noticed my failings and barked his laughter. He said something like "perhaps Candace will test out as a warrior by standing on your broken corpse!" Suggesting that I am only a springboard for Candace's future success once she breaks me.
I got up, despite Candace's taunts, and hit her once again; this time, on the jaw, and I know that she felt that one. She clapped a hand to her jaw and stared at me as though I suggested that she should frolick among freeborn children rather than train.
Then she let out a bellow and threw herself onto me without restraint. None at all; she hurt me all over, by any means she could manage. She bruised my face and cracked a rib. And when I attempted to push her off of me, she clawed me with her fingernails. Yes, that is right; she swiped me with her nails, which she claims will one day grow into a bear's claws, and drew a long cut on my right forearm. It bled more than I expected.
At that point, Star Commander Vlendir had pried Candace off of me and declared her the winner, and me, trash. The strangest part was when Candace was parted from me; her battle fury died in an instant, and she was back to her usual cool contempt and mockery, as though nothing had happened.
The cut on my forearm proved otherwise.
I will only be in the medical ward for a few days while my rib mends and the bruises start to fade, but it is that scar that made the biggest impression on me. Is savage victory the only thing that Candace craves? How did the same sibko produce her and I? I do not understand! Why is she in my sibko, and not tormenting cadets in some Smoke Jaguar sibko instead? There, she would be typical, and not a mere beast.
It is the will of Jorgensson and Tseng that we are patient, we are indestructible, and we strike in fury when our opponent draws too near. But Candace, and her friends... they are not in line with such ideas. I am only thankful that Star Commander Vlendir only extends his "rivalry" strategy to physical combat and training, so you can see the flaming rivalry in someone's eyes. In a BattleMech, that is not so true.
That is fortunate, because I have 'Mech training next week.
I will not allow any more scars to form, journal. I will not. I promise this as I finish writing this and close the covers.
I will not.