The point I wanted to make was that he got busted down so far he:
1) Lost the privilege of keeping "Colonel" when he retires.
2) Lost any non pension retirement benefits.
3) Lost all security clearances.
4) And was looking at a dishonorable discharge from the PRT instead of a PRT Tribunal and prison time.

I mean, I've seen some versions of Tagg where he wasn't an asshole, but he struck me as being the kind of officers who'd been getting away with very questionable shit for a long time, and finally got caught by the person he thought he could keep silent by ordering her to.

While I understand Earth Bet(d) is not our Earth, he'd be up in front of the World Court in the Hague for the shit he pulled at Lausanne. The only people who'd be on his side might be the Chinese and the Russians.

(Someone who has more knowledge about the military have to clarify this for me, but as a civilian, you do not forfeit any accrued pension benefits if you are terminated for cause.)
 
This happened back in Intermezzo, 2nd Movement: Requiem For A King...

"Why couldn't we tell him it was radiation poisoning?" Tamamo testily asked Amaterasu. "We both saw enough of it after Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and I could sense the old warhead buried underneath the town."

"That would have enraged them, Tamamo-san, and that would have caused this world more harm." She paused for a moment. "And it would have been wrong. The PRT didn't put it there, nor did the US Military. And it's been leaking radiation and heavy metals into the environment for the last decade, so it wasn't just radiation."

"Who put it there? Should I be paying them a visit?" Tamamo's ears had gone flat against her skull, and her eyes were glowing a dull red color.

"The man's bigotry and hatred has already come to the attention of his superiors. If they look deep enough into his affairs, they will find out, and he will be punished. Am I not a goddess of justice?"

"You are."

"Let us relax for a bit, and wait for the two days and his answer."

I assumed at the time this was referring to Tagg. Now, I guess I was wrong. Did I miss something? If it wasn't Tagg, do we know who it was?
 
I've always assumed "Director" and whatnot in the PRT were SES/Executive Schedule positions which would most closely correspond to O-7 through O-10, insofar as they can be translated like that.
 
I was going to write out a long reply but then I said to hell with it.

PRT is a paramilitary civilian LE agency. No court-martials, just administrative tribunals.

If Tagg screwed up enough to be fired from a regional directorship, AND it involves physical harming people or violations of civil rights, those are criminal violations. Busting him from director to private on the wall at Ellisburg is just a cover-up.

And the last thing you want is to give a person like that a gun and stand guard duty, especially a possible Ziz bomb.

As amusing as busting him is, either fire him completely or throw him in prison.
 
Again, the PRT...
I was going to write out a long reply but then I said to hell with it.

PRT is a paramilitary civilian LE agency. No court-martials, just administrative tribunals.

If Tagg screwed up enough to be fired from a regional directorship, AND it involves physical harming people or violations of civil rights, those are criminal violations. Busting him from director to private on the wall at Ellisburg is just a cover-up.

And the last thing you want is to give a person like that a gun and stand guard duty, especially a possible Ziz bomb.

As amusing as busting him is, either fire him completely or throw him in prison.

Tag was busted down, awaiting the processing of his dishonorable discharge, which basically makes him unemployable by the Federal government.
He gets to keep his pension when he retires, but gets nothing else.

His position, for the 30 days from being found out to being booted out, was an administrative one.

Whatever happened to him after that, I have no clue, as it isn't important to the story. Criminal charges and time in a medium to high security prison are possible.

The PRT in Scaling Up is a part of the military that isn't, if that makes sense. Military for the access to things like cruise missiles and IRBMs, but not because of Posse Comittatus laws. They have their own Unified Code of Justice, and face tribunals that are carried out much like Court Martials are. Capes are considered paramilitary assets, and are held to the same rules and regulations.

A basic rank structure for the PRT would be Recruit, Trooper, Sergeant, Lieutenant, Captain. After Captain are the deputy directors (Majors), and regional directors (Colonels). The ranks are equivalent to the amount of power they'd have. Some directors in charge of Containment Zones / Quarantine areas may be referred to by that rank, having transferred sideways from an appropriate branch of service (Like Emily Piggot (USMC) and James Tagg (Army)) and are in a more combat oriented role.

When in the field, Emily was referred to by several flag officers of the US Military as Major Piggot during Leviathan's Attack.

Those directors and deputies who have no military service are referred to as "Director", or "Deputy Director", respectively. Many will have law enforcement experience of some kind.

The point I'm trying to make is that the PRT and Protectorate's structure and systems are a hot mess that is anyone's guess as to how it keeps functioning...
Which is typical of anything that Cauldron has set up and tries to micromanage.
 
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Thanks for the info. 👍🏼

What I was going to try and say in the longer version was that the RL US does not have paramilitary law enforcement that is the equivalent to the PRT. The closest would be the US Coast Guard, which is mostly maritime law enforcement and search and rescue, which can be transferred to US Navy command in wartime.
 
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The point I'm trying to make is that the PRT and Protectorate's structure and systems are a hot mess that is anyone's guess as to how it keeps functioning...
Which is typical of anything that Cauldron has set up and tries to micromanage.

It probably only remains as functional as it is because Fortuna is doing stuff in the background to ensure it remains functional. Guess that's one more 24/7 full time job she's doing, in addition to the other eight or nine equally time consuming tasks on her plate (several of which are mutually exclusive).
 
It probably only remains as functional as it is because Fortuna is doing stuff in the background to ensure it remains functional. Guess that's one more 24/7 full time job she's doing, in addition to the other eight or nine equally time consuming tasks on her plate (several of which are mutually exclusive).
The obvious answer is that there's more than one of her? Maybe there was a Case 53 who was quadruplets, and their power was to copy another parahuman (effectively body-copy, and hook-up to their shard) - they've been the other four Contessa's for a long time now...

Their default shape is these scaly humanoids - Chameleons?

(You could keep spares for them in the Clone Tanks - of course Cauldron have Clone Tanks!)
 
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In Scaling Up, didn't we last see Fortuna having a nice drink, glad that she didn't have to continue micromanage Cauldron's crimes against humanity?
 
The PRT in Scaling Up is a part of the military that isn't, if that makes sense. Military for the access to things like cruise missiles and IRBMs, but not because of Posse Comittatus laws. They have their own Unified Code of Justice, and face tribunals that are carried out much like Court Martials are. Capes are considered paramilitary assets, and are held to the same rules and regulations.
In two words I can provide a Real Life Example.

Coast Guard.

Really, they are military, yet not military.
 
The closest would be the US Coast Guard, which is mostly maritime law enforcement and search and rescue, which can be transferred to US Navy command in wartime.

In two words I can provide a Real Life Example.

Coast Guard.

Really, they are military, yet not military.
The Coast Guard is every bit military, it's just their remit is defending the nation's coasts from hostile invasion, with rescue and law enforcement roles tacked on to maintain training readiness and to get some return on investment during peace time. After all, the various laws and regulations barring the other branches from engaging in law enforcement are all specific to the branches affected, and no such restriction has ever been passed for the Coast Guard specifically so they can fill such roles.
 
Yes, the Coast Guard is military - one of six, and the only one that is part of Homeland Security. (I have always felt, by that name, that it should be answered with a phrase that starts with "Seig" ... or perhaps the English translation of "Hail Victory" ...)
 
After all, the various laws and regulations barring the other branches from engaging in law enforcement are all specific to the branches affected, and no such restriction has ever been passed for the Coast Guard specifically so they can fill such roles.
US Coast Guard commanders can order searches of ships in its territorial waters and US flagged ships *anywhere* on their own instead of having a judge sign a warrant. The reason why? If a USCG captain needed to search a ship at sea they did not have reliable instant comms with a judge until fairly recently. So the CG captain would give the order to search, and fill out the report later. This authority has existed since the founding of the US, been confirmed several times in court including recently, and there are no plans to change it. So if you are on a boat/ship and the USCG 'requests' to board and inspect your vessel, you can not refuse.
 
You will note Ships Captains often have VERY broad powers regardless of what nation they come from when at sea, especially for extended periods of time. Including powers normally reserved to clergy (weddings) or judicial powers normally requiring outside authorization, up to and including confinement of suspects, serving as a trial judge, and even if warranted (usually historically) executions. Yes, they would need to defend their actions once back in port, but thanks to the isolation that historically comes with long voyages, the precedents for such powers do exist.
 
You will note Ships Captains often have VERY broad powers regardless of what nation they come from when at sea, especially for extended periods of time. Including powers normally reserved to clergy (weddings) or judicial powers normally requiring outside authorization, up to and including confinement of suspects, serving as a trial judge, and even if warranted (usually historically) executions. Yes, they would need to defend their actions once back in port, but thanks to the isolation that historically comes with long voyages, the precedents for such powers do exist.
That's historically why being a Naval Captain has been such a big deal. It comes with a long list of powers but also a long list of responsibilities. Screw ups on that scale are never pleasant after all and usually involve a large loss of life.
 
Bottom 10
Taylor collapsed onto the bed in her quarters aboard The Rig after a long night treating casualties from the ongoing action against the Githyanki raiders, who were now thought to number less than twelve still active, and the remaining couple hundred in the Medieval armed force out on Kittery Point. She'd run out of useful spells, so she needed some time to rest and prepare new ones, plus get some breakfast. And find out how Missy was doing.

"At least my dad is OK," she said to herself. A couple of text messages had been received, one in the evening and one in the morning just after she'd gotten off shift. He was in the downtown former lair of a wannabe bond villain that two dragons had turned into a lair away from the lair (so to speak), and had several rather nicely appointed living units for guests (along with a dormitory area that couldn't possibly hold the number people it was, unless Vista was involved).

Then there was her house. It looked harmless, a perfect target for any raiders or looters. Until you realized that two entire squads of Tucker's Kobolds were defending the place, including a rodent Master and a trap Tinker.

The extra-dimensional raiders had left the house alone, giving it (and therefore most of the street) a wide berth, because to their sensibilities it was too tempting a target. Therefore, it must be a trap, and there were other, less costly places to sack. The local looters, however, had decided it was the perfect target. And paid the price for it. Three times. It really said something about the quality of thugs and villains around Brockton when the out of town ones realized what the house was, and the local ones did not. Especially since this was not the first time troublemakers in that area had been figuratively hoisted on that petard.

She'd heard the calls on her phone as they came in. Twenty-one looters had been picked up there in the span of twelve hours, all of them known locals with former gang affiliations.

On the one hand, it was disappointing to realize just how stupid far too many criminals were. On the other hand, she was glad they weren't more intelligent and therefore dangerous.

Hmm. Her thoughts seemed more than a bit scattered. She was definitely tired.

While she would like nothing more than to get a good eight hours sleep, she knew it wasn't going to be possible. So, calming herself, she did as she'd been taught and slipped into a meditative state where she was aware at a low level of what was going on around her, but would allow the mind and body to rest and recover her spells for when she awoke.

- - - - - - - - - -​

As refreshed as she was going to be, she exited her quarters and made her way into the Wards common area, which was empty. A small whiteboard had Theo's writing on it; he and Chris were on a patrol on the south side of town. Which was likely to be the safest part of town, because Kenta – he'd made that clear on his return, Lung was dead – didn't tolerate troublemakers in the neighborhood he called home. He'd not been back for more than two weeks, and already the "Boot to the head!" memes were rampant on PHO.

Li Xiao had been giving her updates of goings on in the ABB's territory, namely how his former boss, whom he had a great deal of respect for, had decided to become a law abiding citizen. Not the letter of the law, but the spirit of it. Which meant things were peaceful. A few troublemakers had tried to start something, and Li Xiao's normal enforcers took care of it, sometimes because Kenta had pointed them at the problem.

A group that tried to loot the shrine ran into not only a rather annoyed Inari, but also (some allege) his ex-wife and her newest follower. The end result was five very frightened would-be looters, all wanting a nice safe cell in a prison far, far away and then to spend the remainder of their lives as hermits in the wilderness. Anywhere so long as it was as far away as they could get from the Queen of the Foxes, her ex-husband, and the other one with a barbed tongue sharp enough to flay the skin off your body with just words.

Between Kenta, the ABB, those associated with the shrine, the BBPD, the PRT, and the Protectorate, that part of Brockton Bay was well guarded.

She caught up on the news using her phone before making her way up to Cafeteria One to grab a bit of early lunch / late breakfast before finding out what she was doing. Healing had been taken over by Brockton General; the streets were now considered safe enough that ambulance crews and EMTs were back on the street, and the civilian injured were starting to hit the hospital. Fortunately (or perhaps ominously), there were far fewer of those than one would expect. The Githyanki hadn't gotten very far from The Docks, and the last dozen were thought to be hiding somewhere in the maze of old decrepit buildings. Encounters with them were brief; they were learning to not underestimate the locals and had become cautious.

They were still processing the confoamed soldiers, while Matthew, Samira and Nathan kept the hundred or so that didn't get trapped pinned between the shore and the road, having requested the help of another of their number, who went by the name of Clyde. Barriers were their specialty, from walls of earth and stone to invisible shells of force and barriers that were disruptions in space-time itself.

Tucker's crew of lunatics had been busy, resulting in the destruction or capture of the main cache of supplies for that group, and bringing what was left of them to the main staging area outside the city.

And then there was the goings on in China. Sun Wukong had made his displeasure known over how his homeland had been mishandled by the Chinese Union Imperial, rounded up all of the Yangban, and put the lowest numbers (i.e. the leaders) in solitary confinement. After having had enough of Parahuman tyranny, a number of regional army commanders decided to bring order to their regions. They quickly learned the lines they shouldn't cross, and a very quiet civil war was underway. At least they were in communication with other regions again, even if they were still refusing aid.

By that time, Taylor was in the cafeteria enjoying her lunch. It turned out Fugly Bob's had shipped over a bunch of their monster burgers for the PRT and Protectorate, and she decided that three of them would make an excellent lunch. They did.

- - - - - - - - - -​

"Hello, Andraste," Naurelin greeted as she stepped out onto the docks around the base of The Rig.

"Naurelin," Andraste said with a yawn. "Been a busy morning."

"Yes, it has," Naurelin returned. "I'm glad Brockton General's taking over casualties now. What we received here was a mess, and Helbrede and I are worn out."

"Still, you two did good, and a lot of troopers are still alive because of what you did," Andraste stated. "Anyway, Weaver's had some unnerving percentages about something happening to The Rig in the next seventy-two hours. Our assigned task is to check around the pontoons and inside the structure. A couple of our affiliated Thinkers also say something's not right, but can't give us details."

"And we're the only ones capable of spending an indefinite amount of time underwater to conduct the search," Naurelin finished.

"That's correct," Andraste added. "I'd recommend that we both use smaller than normal forms for the task, otherwise we might get fouled in the mooring lines or struts."

"I've got a question," Naurelin asked.

"Go on?"

"What happens if we find something and we can't move it?"

"Then we cut all the anchor lines, refloat, and Prince of Wales gives us a tow over to an alternate location, where suitable infrastructure is in place."

"When did that get put in?"

"When the four submersible platforms were repurposed into the ENE Protectorate headquarters," Andraste answered. "The Protectorate paid to have them completed, floated to the current location across the harbor from The Docks, and lowered into position. The upper works were added afterwards."

"Learn something new every day," Naurelin mused. "Need a boost into the air?"

Andraste's human form fluxed, and a smaller bronze dragon was hovering over the dock. "Nah," she squeaked, "I got this." And with that, she dove into the water.

With a shrug, Naurelin's own form shifted into a smaller version of her draconic self, and she dove off the dock into the murky water below.

- - - - - - - - - -​

It had been a good suggestion to use a smaller form to do the inspection, because her full size wouldn't have fit in some of the spaces. Human divers would have had problems as well, and would have the added complication of using scuba or rebreathers to do any work down here.

The water here was less than clear, but she could easily see for thirty feet or so. There were a few misshapen fish swimming around and a couple of very large carp-like fish who were staying well away from her as she swam. And there was something else down here…

And if the flash and tingle was any indication, it had just encountered Andraste, who decided to electrocute it.

Then she felt it. A pulse of energy. After looking down at the silt covered bottom of the bay, she decided to extend her senses a bit, glad of the fact she didn't need to use gestures, words or material components to cast spells. She focused her will, and cast detect magic.

There were a few glimmers in the mud and muck, but the one that caught her attention was the one that was pulsating, near the center of the conjoined platforms. That can't be good, she thought. And then she had a slight problem. Half rotten figures started rising out of the silt, sluggishly brandishing spears and tridents.

Zombies? She thought to herself. Well, let's see if this works… Bahamut, lend me your strength, let these poor souls rest! She felt something flow through her and the creatures around her started moving away from her, then they just became dust which was swept away in the current.

Whoa, that worked better than expected, she thought to herself.

Andraste had noticed what was going on. When Naurelin finally saw her, she gestured upward, and both dragons surfaced.

"I take it you found something?" Andraste asked as she tread water.

"Yeah," Naurelin acknowledged. "We've got something about the size of a bowling ball that's magical in the silt near the center of The Rig. And a few smaller glimmers as well. The larger item is pulsing, almost like a slow heartbeat. It was protected by a bunch of zombie fishmen."

"While I didn't find anything magical, I did have to deal with some of the fishmen that attacked the rig a week ago," Andraste reported. "Since they were getting annoying…"

"You hit them with your lightning," Naurelin finished for her. "Which, underwater, acts as an area denial attack." She thought for a moment. "And just after that, the thing pulsed."

"That's… not good," Andraste muttered.

"No it isn't," Naurelin agreed.

"I think we need to make our reports," Andraste stated, climbing out onto the jetty and changing back.

Naurelin soon joined her. "I wonder how much paperwork this is going to generate?"

"Way too much," Andraste snarked.

"Hopefully not so much it keeps me from checking on Vista today."

"That sounds like a very good idea."

= = = = = = = = = =​

Nahia looked around at the other people in the shelter. She'd been evacuated when a large armed force had started advancing on the city. Most of the people here had treated her decently, and of course the children were like "Kitty!" and wanted to pet her and ride her and find out what tricks she could do.

Using her illusion powers to animate stories for the children had been a very good idea, and relieved a lot of tension in the shelter. While people were always aware that there was a big cat in the former Endbringer shelter, it was more like keeping track of where she was so they didn't step on her tail, or walk in on her while she was eating. Otherwise she was treated as just another person, which she admitted to herself was strange but enjoyable.

When they evacuated, she'd managed to fill a cooler with ice and her supply of artificial human flesh, which she could stretch by mixing it with animal meat. She needed to get in contact with her handler in the local PRT office, so she could get some more in the near future.

A pity that Rihab couldn't swallow her pride and accept the gift of food that didn't involve killing other people. But then again, if they weren't a Lamia, they weren't people to that bitch.

She wouldn't have to worry about that ever again. The bitch was shot to death trying to escape for the third time from the PRT detention block. Attacking a PRT trooper and trying to kill him causes things like that.

She said a brief prayer for the dead, and proceeded over to one of the areas where there was a TV set up so she could watch what was currently being shown, which happened to be an inane morning talk show. At the very least, it would help with her skills in English. Grabbing a cup of decaf coffee, she settled down to watch what the rest of the world had been getting up to while Brockton Bay went crazy.

It beats getting eaten by a dragon, she thought, I'll take this over that any day.
 
This week's chapter is dedicated to the memory of a family friend, mentor and World War 2 veteran who passed away last week at the age of 98 and was laid to rest today.

Edits by McClaw from the CTC.

In Memoriam, Bruce A. Westphal, USAAF. Rest In Peace.

I'll be around later to read comments.
 
This week's chapter is dedicated to the memory of a family friend, mentor and World War 2 veteran who passed away last week at the age of 98 and was laid to rest today.

In Memoriam, Bruce A. Westphal, USAAF. Rest In Peace.
Oh. If you wish for them, my condolences. If not... eh, dunno TBH.

Looks like the scheme is about to be discovered though. I guess that Tia and Bahamut are going to be not amused.
 
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