Red Ledger Night

Script

INT. COMPANY HEADQUARTERS, CALCUTTA - DAY

A ceiling fan chops humid air. Maps sweat on the walls. Outside, distant cannon THUMPS like a heartbeat.

CAPT. SILAS CROWE stands mud-stained among polished boots. LT. TOM KESTREL is rigid beside him, eyes forward.

Behind a vast desk sits MR. HOLLIS, Company accountant—linen spotless, smile gentle as a knife. A ledger lies open like a mouth.

HOLLIS
Captain Crowe. Bengal suits you. You’ve turned waterlogged guns into profit.

He slides a paper across—an “AWARD OF COMMENDATION” stamped red.

CROWE
My men ate rat rice for three days.

HOLLIS
And yet the village still pays its arrears. Splendid arithmetic.

Kestrel twitches—wants to speak. Crowe’s hand stops him.

HOLLIS (CONT'D)
I’m authorizing an extra ration of rum.
(leans in, softer)
And I’m filing your… irregular firing solution as “initiative.”

CROWE
Initiative is what you call it when it works.

HOLLIS
Precisely.

Hollis’s smile widens. He taps the ledger’s margin—numbers, neat as prayer.

HOLLIS (CONT'D)
There is, however, a small stain. Powder requisitions. Missing charges. Missing shells.

CROWE
We fired what we were issued.

HOLLIS
Then the page lies.
(pleasant)
And pages do not lie without a hand to guide them.

A beat. The fan squeals.

HOLLIS (CONT'D)
A court-martial is such a cumbersome thing. London loves paperwork. So do I.

Kestrel can’t help it—

KESTREL
Sir, with respect, you can’t invoice a battlefield.

HOLLIS
Oh, Lieutenant. We invoice everything.
(eyes to Crowe)
Your loyalty, for instance. Very cheap, given your… circumstances.

CROWE
Say it plain.

HOLLIS
Deliver results. Quietly. Don’t ask why the powder vanishes. Don’t ask whose signature replaces yours.
(then, bright)
And you’ll keep your command.

CROWE
And if I ask?

HOLLIS
Then you’ll keep your honor.
(smile stays)
In a cell.

Hollis closes the ledger with a soft THUD—sentence passed.

HOLLIS (CONT'D)
Dismissed, Captain. Do send my regards to your brotherhood of misfits.

Crowe’s eyes narrow: