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Jalal "Kaid" El Fassi

…

Legacy. It's the one thing that all humans would inevitably leave behind. For some, their legacy was tantamount to wealth and influence, an investment to secure their progenies' future. For others, it would be the name and the renown, intangible stuff that random passersby would, hopefully, bow to. Ironically, many people could care less what kind of mark they would leave behind until their twilight years loomed on them. Jalal El Fassi, the current Kaid or 'Commander' of the Kasbah Sehkra Mania, would be the first to admit that the thought had crossed his mind once or twice.

No family, no children; some might say he was a 'failure of a man' for not siring his bloodline's next generation, as if his beard was not enough of an eloquent rebuttal. Of course, those same cretins would never say that to his face, such an imposing and stoic figure that he was. True to form, he was not like a weak-minded, elderly fool who needlessly worried about his 'legacy'. The only thing that mattered to him was the Fortress. That, and ensuring those leaving its halls would not tarnish its name, regardless of their name or wealth.

A fresh batch had just arrived two days ago. Foreigners.

Clad in his tan dress uniform, with a hand on his back, and another clutching a steaming cup of tea, Jalal leisurely admired the various portraits that lined the main hall near his office. They belonged to previous Kaids, those who served their time until their retirement or untimely death. There was at least one who was ousted from his post due to some crime; he would forever go unnamed and unremembered. And beyond those frames was an empty space and a pedestal reserved for Jalal. One for his portrait, the other for the ornate dagger strapped to his belt. It was the subject of one of his most favorite mental exercises. Some days, walking down the same hall, he would imagine what his final portrait would be like, for future Commanders to admire. He expected that painting, whatever swathe of pastel and paint it might be, would be up to his stern standards.

But that was a matter for another time. He was the master of the house, and his house was currently a lodging for a number of guests. There were a little more than 20 of them today, men and women of all stripes. The muffled shouting coming from the main gate meant that they were doing some warm-up exercises right now, before the inevitable hike along the Atlas slopes. These soldiers from the 'Rainbow Program' were a spirited and enthusiastic bunch, much like some batches that Jalal had overseen. They seemed more like tourists than soldiers, however; Morocco was a change of scenery for them, with the hot climate and beautiful flora. They would definitely change their tune after the GIGR's baptism of fire, only a few hours from now. It was all typical of first-timers to an esteemed training institution such as the Atlas Fortress

Jalal scoffed to himself and walked across the hall of portraits, moving through the courtyard, then navigating the ivory staircase to reach the ground floor. He held his cup of tea all throughout his brief trek, running his thoughts as to how he could make Rainbow's visit much more worthwhile. When their Director asked him to run her people through an unorthodox training regimen, the Kaid was quite hesitant to say 'yes'. The woman had been hounding him for years to join her little cadre, but he still did not know much about these Operators. Talented and unconventional, but the same could be said to quite a few from the GIGR, like Sanaa and some other troopers he mentored. Perhaps the experience would be the same? Regardless, Jalal agreed to take them under his wing, after some consternation.

Team Rainbow- they were a chance to build upon his legacy and his institution. Well, that was how Mike Baker sweetened the deal with him. He seemed a bit derisive of his own people, like a stern father describing his own wily kids. 'Wily' was an apt term when used by an old soldier; one look at the Fortress's main gate would prove that fact. As Jalal happened upon the entrance, he saw his would-be charges lined up in formation, fixing their gear. To his slight irritation, these people were smiling and cheering: trappings of a collectively-cavalier attitude. They were not taking this whole thing very seriously, as they were supposed to. And then, two people caught his attention.

"Your hands better not be where they shouldn't…", complained one short-haired lady with the narrow eyes.

Her cream-colored shirt and desert fatigues were tagged 'Ying', in black text. Her companion, a taller man with similar eyes, were fastening her training gear for her. His clothes were labelled 'Echo'.

"Get over yourself.", said the other. "You think I'll do that to you, of all people?"

The duo were fixing each other's respective training harnesses, which were designed to carry a few weights to mimick the typical loadout of a routine GIGR desert patrol. Their weapons were topped with training rounds, their canteens were half-full, and their caps provided meager protection from the sun. It would appear that neither Ying nor Echo were used to this kind of exercise, though, seeing how they struggled to get their gear into order. That was only expected from law enforcement-types, more at home to the stresses of urban operations than the rigors of military work. In just a single instance, Jalal had become a little less impressed with these Rainbow-folk. Something like this would have never stood in his time.

He set his cup of tea down on an end table. Then, without asking for attention, the tall and imposing man strode to where the two younglings stood. His footsteps were swift yet distinct, and little by little the two trainees were made aware by Jalal's presence. They looked at him with startled, intimidated eyes. At first, they fixated on the dagger on his belt, crafted by the finest artisans of the Gendarmerie Royale. It was a symbol of his authority. It more or else described his demeanor perfectly, if the brusque face or the bushy beard did not already. He cleared his throat and let his voice do the honors.

"Is there something wrong?"

"Sir!", Ying stood at attention. "W-we were just securing our packs. We-we didn't mean to… uh…"

The girl started to trail off; she did not realize that she and her training buddy were delaying the exercise with their bantering. That was a 'second strike' as far as Jalal was concerned, but he didn't emote. Rather than berate her in front of her companions, he brought up his arm and looked at his prized wristwatch.

"You have 20 seconds to get yourselves in order. If not, you'll run a hundred laps around the Fortress. With twice the weights."

It was not an empty threat either, as there were a few more training harnesses stowed just outside the lobby. The thought alone was more than enough to send Ying and Echo into a bit of a panic. They sprang into action, getting each belt and bag into their proper place no matter how uncomfortable they were. They communicated with grunts and gestures, which was just as paramount as their hand-and-eye coordination. Before long, their comrades noticed the commotion behind them, and they too stared in awe and abject fear. It was an impromptu punishment being meted out. Much as they would like to help their friends, they did not dare interfere with the imposing Kaid and his work.

*click!*

"Time."

Jalal turned his eyes to the two, who were sweaty and panting. They completed the task by the skin of their teeth, just as he wanted them to.

"That was not so hard, now was it?"

"No sir!", Ying and Echo replied in unison.

"Good. Carry on."

They saluted him and scampered off to join the rest of the troupe, no doubt shaken by what they had just experienced. The duo were met with a few hushed cheers from their comrades, but they did not return the courtesy. It was time to move out; with the group finally complete and prepped, the designated leader of the hike signaled by blowing a whistle. The trainees marched off in pairs, exiting through the Fortress gates, and into the rough, uneven road outside, thus starting their run. Jalal watched quietly as their tan-colored figures slowly reached the horizon, marching in formation as proper soldiers should. It would take a few seconds for them to finally disappear from his view.

"Look at 'em go…"

The grizzled Commander turned to his side. The voice came from Mike Baker, dressed in a British Army-style desert camo, walking towards him. He had a strange-looking knife strapped to his left forearm. Clearly, a person of import within Rainbow's chain of command, if his posture was not enough evidence.

"…Bet that's the first time they were schooled since basic training."

"You disapprove of my approach?", Jalal asked him.

"Not at all. I say, proper good job whippin' those two into shape. Saves me the time."

"I pray they will not be a complete disappointment. They look… how do you say it English? …'Wet behind their ears'?"

Baker held back a laugh, as if that statement rang true to his head. The two men went back indoors, entering the lobby for a second time, to which Jalal picked up the cup of tea he'd left earlier. They encountered a couple more Rainbow Operators making the rounds, both of whom acknowledged Fortress's master with a salute. A brown-haired man carrying two rifle cases for the marksmanship test outside. There was also a spritely young woman with the freckled face hauling a big computer monitor, presumably headed to the briefing room on the second floor. Only a skeleton crew of GIGR personnel had remained in the Fortress, as Sanaa and a few others were deployed overseas, undertaking a mission of high priority. In all respects, Jalal was on his own and in the company of strangers.

Luckily, Baker was a known quantity. He had spoken to the former SAS Sergeant Major quite a few times in the past, and it was he who accompanied 'Director Six' on her travels to Morocco.

"Forgive me for saying, but I expected more from your people.", he said to the Englishman.

"New arrivals, the lot of 'em. The others back in England could still use a drillin' or two, but they're a bit better."

"That is not what I meant.", Jalal corrected him. "Only a handful in Rainbow have combat experience in harsh conditions. I will need more than 30 days to get them into shape."

After all, that was the reason why people flocked to the Atlas Fortress. It was the perfect place to simulate mountain and desert warfare, which seemed to be where today's major wars are being fought nowadays. Back in Jalal's time, the GIGR were trained to also fight in horseback, like the Bedouins of old. His skills in that regard were undimmed and he could teach Rainbow a few things about saddling and riding an untamed stallion. Though knowing them, they would probably prefer ATVs and motorbikes instead.

"We didn't ask for a crash course on desert survival.", Baker rebutted. "But I understand yer worries. Many of these kids weren't raised like we were…"

On that, the two men silently agreed. Such was the legacy of the modern world, siring generations of people unused to hardships and austerity. Exposure to an unfamiliar environment was enough to make some of the 'newbloods' to flounder. No wonder these youths were soft, Jalal thought. Of course, that could also be just his old age talking. He was probably a bit jealous that their upbringing was better than his.

"…But give 'em a chance. With a little prodding and slapping 'round, they'll surprise ya."

"Perhaps. I have read some of the technical notes they brought here..."

He pulled out a few pieces of folded paper from his backpocket. They were specs and summaries of some of Rainbow's 'toys', such as a portable cluster-flashbang dispersal unit and a state-of-the-art surveillance hover drone. The same equipment used by Ying and Echo, those two trainees that he disciplined earlier. Even a traditionalist like Jalal would admit that the GIGR could do a lot of good work, if they had a few of those in their arsenal. There was one thing that he wanted to clarify, though. It was a picture of a box-shaped, 12.6-volter and a few jumper cables.

"...I was clearly 'surprised' to see this. Why does Rainbow have a dozen car batteries in its inventory?"

"Crude Electric Device.", Baker explained. "One of our Germans came up with that when he was undercover. Sorta quick way to repel intruders and hold down an site."

He then took the papers from his hand; Jalal did not need to tell the other old man that he had already reviewed them. If the batteries and cables were designed as a defensive 'contraption', then there certainly were many ways which his engineers could improve on it. Creating a compact resonant transformer might provide the same power output. Fashioning a smaller chassis could allow various means of deployment, such as a pair of arresting claws or a foam-based adhesive. Nothing that the brightest minds in Rabat or Marrakesh had not yet overcome, really. However, judging if such a device would be worth the effort was a different story altogether. Any force could hold down a site with nothing but knives if they had careful planning, so this whole talk about fancy gizmos was moot.

If the bearded Commander had anything to say, he'd rather be drilling soldiers than wrapping his head around this technological nonsense. All the best machines in the world would never replace a trooper's strength, skill, and determination to succeed. That was what the Fortress taught him during his time. That was the one lesson he hoped his students would espouse by the end of their stay. But Rainbow might prove to be a different breed altogether. These people would have so many ideas that could easily contest everything that Jalal had known and stood by all throughout his life. Entry-and-assault tactics, drone surveillance, asset protection strategies. It was perhaps a reflection of their multinational background, which all the more proved that his approach might not be as effective to them as he had originally hoped. Today's march across the desert might even be a pleasant experience for them, thanks to their high spirits.

Jalal's train of thought carried him elsewhere. With a hand under his bearded chin, he started to play the devil's advocate, look at things in retrospect. There was plenty of merit behind these tools that Rainbow seemed to heavily rely on. The world had evolved throughout the many years the Kaid reigned over the Fortress; changes in doctrine were only to be expected. Judging everything strictly by his own stern standards would not be a novel idea all the time, when clearly some innovations had good reason behind them. To an effect, perhaps his old-fashioned way of miles-long treks and physical training might be lacking in some regards. He just needed to look deeper into the faults of his own mindset. If that was the case, then it would be his duty to challenge these new ideas. See if they could withstand the rigors of time and battle, as Jalal himself faced them during his youth.

Little by little, he realized that his work was cut out for him. He did not mind.

"Hope all that rubbish about the tech's not been gettin' on yer nerves too much."

"Not at all, Mr. Baker. I will see to it that your people will leave my Fortress as better soldiers... Even if they insist on using their little robots."

"Ain't that a thought."

"Yes. I believe we could start with the high-altitude combat training tomorrow. Something sure to put your best Operators to their knees."

"Bloody hell, maybe I could still learn a thing or two from ya after all."

Jalal scoffed at the complement, which clearly had a lot of meanings behind it. It was both a praise and a challenge; would the Kaid be up to Rainbow's standards? Much as he wanted to put these upstarts to their proper place, he understood why they were asking so much from him. He recalled the image of that 'Crude Electric Device', and he started picturing the many ways to improve it as was asked. Once he wrote it all down, he could let the GIGR's engineers do the rest. He hoped that the final product would be something worth placing on a plaque or a podium, something that he could proudly say as his legacy.

Legacy. The one thing people leave behind when they die. Suffice to say, Jalal had nothing to fear in that regard. His place in the Fortress's history was secured, for better or worse. He only needed one more touch to add on it, something that future generations could learn from. And these men and women put under his care could be the best instruments for the task. There would come a day where their strength and skills would be put to the ultimate test, and their success would hinge on everything that Kaid El Fassi had instilled in them. He could already picture his final portrait in the hall upstairs. It would be something worthy of praise and awe, even if his history with Team Rainbow would have to be redacted as well. No matter. There was another way to make his portrait even more memorable.

He walked to another end table, where a kettle of tea was situated, freshly-brewed. He poured some for himself and to the other man, as was customary for guests. They had quite a lot more things to discuss.

"That knife on your arm. It is a Fairbairn-Sykes, correct?", he asked Baker.

"Eh? You want one?"

…

Author's Comments/Notes: Shout-out to one of my readers, MaximumSalt, for his continued support and for sharing several ideas for my planned sequel to 'Freedom Day'. His Batman fanfic 'The Mime and the Menace' has been out for a while now, go check it out!

Some behind the scenes: I had to choose between Kaid and Nomad for this one, but I decided to go with the former because I like the dynamic he shared with Thatcher: grumbling old men who hate technology and love to spout that things were better back in their day. That said, Kaid struck me more as a trainer rather than a field operative; mentoring is his forte after all. Thatcher, on the other hand, is more hands-on and has the experience of several wars to draw from. I guess if I'm ever gonna showcase Kaid in my future stories, he'll mostly be in the background.

Coming up next: Alibi!