Tue, February 07 2012
| TITLE: | How Phileas Acted With Aplomb |
|---|---|
| AUTHOR: | Tonja Moore |
| CATEGORY/TYPE: | MissingScene, The Rocket's Red Glare, Silly |
| RATING/WARNINGS: | List the story rating (G, PG-13, R) and if it's Gen, Adult-Het or Adult-Slash |
| MAIN CHARACTERS: | List any main characters or adult relationships |
| DESCRIPTION: | Write story summary here. |
| STATUS: | Complete |
A missing scene I wrote to fill in a gap that was mentioned but not shown. It's a bit silly... well, really silly, actually. We heard this is a voiceover near the end of the episode:
Jules in a voiceover: "But, being Phileas Fogg, he pulled it off with perfect English aplomb."
Now, I love Phileas doing things with perfect English aplomb. Since they didn't show it to me, I made it up myself. The scene is in script format.
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The location is West Point Academy. The camera shows us a waiting room in which Phileas Fogg and Jules Verne are sitting in separate chairs and ... well ... waiting. Phileas is at his most stylish, complete with top hat and sword cane. Jules is also looking quite dapper, having allowed Passepartout for once to direct his preparations and choice of clothing for this encounter. Phileas reposes comfortably in his chair gazing with thoughtful abstraction at his hat which he is holding in one hand, but Jules fidgets nervously with his cuffs and coat. As his hand steals towards the watch pocket in his vest yet again, he finds that it is gently but firmly stopped by the tip of Phileas' cane.
PF: (Pleasantly) Verne, if you pull that infernal watch and timetable out one more time, I will be forced to slice your fingers off.
Jules sighs and, with exaggerated care, puts his hand back on the arm of the chair. The cane is withdrawn to its former relaxed position.
JV: Sorry, Fogg. It's just ... how long do you think they are going to keep us waiting in here?
PF: Perhaps they are having difficulty rounding up men who can shoot straight enough to make up a decently sized firing squad.
JV: (Looking pained) I don't think that's funny.
PF: I didn't intend it as a joke. Why do you think we came by carriage instead of in the Aurora? I have an aversion to her being used for target practice. I'm afraid that after meeting a few of the graduates of this establishment, including the late General Steele, my faith in their powers of cool judgment and sound reasoning is not strong.
The door at the far end of the room opens and four men come in. They are Sir Jonathan Chatsworth, looking extremely put out as per usual, the British and French Ambassadors to America (who shall henceforth be designated by BA and FA, since government appointees do not really deserve names), and the acting Commander of West Point (who, since his actual name is unknown, will be called General Lowell in honor of one of the author's coworkers). The men advance toward our heroes, who rise from their chairs and turn to meet them. The general comes to a stop facing Phileas and the two men assess one another. Sir Jonathan scuttles forward.
JC: General Lowell, may I present Phileas Fogg? Fogg, this is Acting Commander Lowell.
PF: (Nodding his head in acknowlegement) General Lowell.
GL: (Returning the nod) Mr. Fogg. (His eyes flick in Jules direction.)
PF: My associate, Jules Verne.
GL: Mr. Verne. (Another nod, but his attention remains on Phileas) I understand, sir, that you are the owner of the airship from which General Steele's body was thrown.
PF: I am.
GL: And that you fired a weapon at a squad of American soldiers.
PF: Correction. I fired a weapon in their vicinity to gain their attention. Had I fired ===at=== them, I would have hit them.
GL: You sound very sure of yourself.
PF: (With a slight smile) I seldom miss. And, it was a very large gun.
GL: (Intrigued) What kind of gun was it?
PF: An Enfield, modified to my specifications. Balanced so that it can be aimed and fired one-handed. Six thirty-eight calibre bullets simultaneously.
GL: Six! (Relaxing now, one firearm enthusiast to another) How do you compensate for the recoil?
PF: It does have a rather powerful kick. You have to ...
JC: (Clearing his throat loudly) Aren't we straying from the point, General?
GL: The point? Oh, yes. What about General Steele's body?
JV: (Speaking up because he is pretty sure that Phileas would rather gnaw off his right foot at the ankle than make excuses) Sir, none of us were in the Aurora when that happened. It was hijacked.
GL: (Inviting him to elaborate) Hijacked?
JV: Yes, sir. The people behind the kidnapping of the general knew about the Aurora. They have tried to take control of her before. (He shoots a quick accusing glance at Chatsworth.) We suspect that they were expecting Sir Jonathan to call on it for help in the search. When it is aloft it is easy to track. They were waiting for the opportunity to get aboard and steal it.
PF: (Still peeved about it) They attacked my valet from behind. He was alone on the Aurora at the time. (To Jules) We need to stop leaving him on there by himself. Something always happens. It's as bad as you and those damned dark alleys.
JV: I ===have=== been trying to be more careful about that, Fogg.
PF: (Conceding the point) You did manage to avoid being waylaid on that last trip to Paris.
Another door bursts open and Lieutenant George Armstrong Custer marches in, followed by an extremely embarrassed sergeant and a very annoyed aide-de-camp. He approaches the general and executes a salute, while Jules and Phileas exchange "Oh, God, not him!" looks.
GC: Sir! I heard you were interrogating these prisoners and have come to make my report.
GL: (With an edge to his voice) Oh, have you, Lieutenant?
GC: (Too dense to notice the warning) Yes, sir. These are the ones who fired on my patrol, sir. They released the prisoner I had taken for interrogation before I finished my questioning.
PF: But, unfortunately, not before you burned down the entire village. Which was on Canadian soil. Populated by those under the protection of the British government. Who were for the most part, women, old men, and young children.
BA: (Feeling it is time to make a contribution) Yes, nasty business, that. (No one takes any notice of him, but that is often the fate of ambassadors.)
FA: (Chiming in) Oui, veree nastee. (No one notices him either.)
GC: (Blustering) They were kidnappers! They had the general's hat!
JV: How did you know it was the general's hat?
GC: What?
JV: (With patience) How did you know it was the general's hat? It could have been any Union officer's hat. They all look alike.
GC: (Triumphantly) It had his name sewed into the hat band!
PF: Did you check that before or after you had beaten Atonwa and tied him to the tree?
JV: (Getting into the spirit of Custer-baiting) You must have extremely good eyesight to have seen the name on the inside of the hat while Atonwa was wearing it.
PF: Was it necessary to torch every structure? Couldn't you have just looked inside?
JV: It's not like there are too many rooms inside a tepee.
GC: (Turning to the general) Are you going to believe these ... these ... FOPS over the your own officer!?!?!
JV: (To Phileas) First time I have ever been called a fop.
PF: (To Jules) You don't usually dress well enough to qualify for foppishness.
JV: I don't have the wardrobe. Passepartout burned my white suit.
PF: (With a shudder) And rightly so.
GC: (Continuing to sputter) And there was a WOMAN with them! A brassy-haired brazen hussy in trousers and boots! Disgraceful!!
GL: (Turning to Sir Jonathan) That would be Rebecca Fogg?
JC: (Uncomfortably) Yes, General.
GL: The agent who managed to divert the rocket away from West Point?
JC: Yes, sir. (Summoning up something in defense of Custer) She does have red hair, General. And she does tend to be ... outspoken ... at times.
While this exchange is going on sounds are coming through the open window. At first it was a low babble of voices coming up from the lawn but now a familiar "chuffing" can be heard. Phileas and Jules stare at the window in consternation.
JV: That sounds like ...
PF: I told them to keep the Aurora away from here.
GL: (Still to Sir Jonathan) I'd like to meet Miss Fogg.
Phileas goes to the window to confirm his suspicions. The Aurora is just settling on the lawn in the center of a large ring of cadets and officers. Phileas speaks over his shoulder to the general.
PF: You may get a chance to do so, General. I believe she has just arrived.
General Lowell comes to stand beside Phileas at the window as the door on the Aurora opens. The others trail after them to see. A vision of dainty loveliness appears at the open doorway. Rebecca, her hair immaculately coiffed into curls and ringlets, her dress a confection of pale green softness, her hat a delightful frame for her smiling face, comes out onto the lawn, followed by Passepartout with a white deck chair. He carefully places the chair and assists Rebecca to sit. She smiles graciously up at him, and speaks to some of the nearby soldiers who do not ... quite ... have their tongues hanging out.
GL: ===That=== is your agent, Sir Jonathan?
JC: Um ... yes. Yes, she is, General.
GL: (Giving Custer a disgusted look that brooks no argument) Get out of my sight.
He does so, defeated again by our heroine. By now there is one soldier holding Rebecca's parasol to shade her and another using her fan to stir a gentle breeze in her direction. She is looking up at the building so Jules leans out the window and waves. She sees him and waves back prettily.
PF: Would you like to take tea with us aboard the Aurora, General Lowell? We could take her up for a short flight. You other gentlemen are invited as well. (He glances at Sir Jonathan with a patronizing look.) I'll excuse you, of course, Chatsworth. I know how suffer from airsickness. You can take the carriage back.
He turns away from the window and heads for the door with the general and the ambassadors. Jules gives Rebecca a "thumbs up" and follows.
GL: May I also get a closer look at that modified Enfield of yours, Mr. Fogg?
PF: Of course, General. I have several pieces that may interest you.
Sir Jonathan stands and fumes. Fogg has done it again. He listens to the receding voices.
GL: Perhaps I could persuade you to part with one or two.
PF: Not for sale, I'm afraid. But, I'm a sporting man, General. Do you by any chance play poker?