Welcome to the Monkey House - Kurt Vonnegut [40]
"And me in church only twice in my life. Hey, Pi Ying," called the pilot insolently, "what’s a bishop worth?"
Pi Ying was amused. "A knight and a pawn, my boy; a knight and a pawn."
Thank God for the lieutenant, thought Kelly. One of the American soldiers grinned. They had been sticking close together, backed against the wall. Now they began to talk among themselves—like a baseball team warming up. At Kelly’s direction, seeming almost unconscious of the meaning of their actions, they moved out onto the board to fill out the ranks.
Pi Ying was speaking again. "All of your pieces are in place now, except your knights and your queen, Colonel. And you, of course, are the king. Come, come. The game must be over before suppertime."
Gently, shepherding them with his long arms, Kelly led his wife and Jerry and Paul to their proper squares. He detested himself for the calm, the detachment with which he did it. He saw the fear and reproach in Margaret’s eyes. She couldn’t understand that he had to be this way—that in his coldness was their only hope for survival. He looked away from Margaret.
Pi Ying clapped his hands for silence. "There, good; now we can begin." He tugged at his ear reflectively. "I think this is an excellent way of bringing together the Eastern and Western minds, don’t you, Colonel? Here we indulge the American’s love for gambling with our appreciation of profound drama and philosophy." Major Barzov whispered impatiently to him. "Oh, yes," said Pi Ying, "two more rules: We are allowed ten minutes a move, and—this goes without saying—no moves may be taken back. Very well," he said, pressing the button on a stop watch and setting it on the balustrade, "the honor of the first move belongs to the white men." He grinned. "An ancient tradition."
"Sergeant," said Colonel Kelly, his throat tight, "move two squares forward." He looked down at his hands. They were starting to tremble.
"I believe I’ll be slightly unconventional," said Pi Ying, half turning his head toward the young girl, as though to make sure that she was sharing his enjoyment. "Move my queen’s pawn forward two squares," he instructed a servant.
Colonel Kelly watched the servant slide the massive carving forward—to a point threatening the sergeant. The sergeant looked quizzically at Kelly. "Everything okay, sir?" He smiled faintly.
"I hope so," said Kelly. "Here’s your protection ... Soldier," he ordered the young corporal, "step forward one square." There—it was all he could do. Now there was no advantage in Pi Ying’s taking the pawn he threatened—the sergeant. Tactically it would be a pointless trade, pawn for pawn. No advantage so far as good chess went.
"This is very bad form, I know," said Pi Ying blandly. He paused. "Well, then again, I’m not so sure I’d be wise to trade. With so brilliant an opponent, perhaps I’d better play flawless chess, and forget the many temptations." Major Barzov murmured something to him. "But it would get us into the spirit of the game right off, wouldn’t it?"
"What’s he talking about, sir?" asked the sergeant apprehensively.
Before Kelly could order his thoughts, Pi Ying gave the order. "Take his king’s pawn."
"Colonel! What’d you do?" cried the sergeant. Two guards pulled him from the board and out of the room. A studded door banged shut behind them.
"Kill me!" shouted Kelly, starting off his square after them. A half-dozen bayonets hemmed him in.
Impassively, the servant slid Pi Ying’s wooden pawn onto the square where the sergeant had stood. A shot reverberated on the other side of the thick door, and the guards reappeared. Pi Ying was no longer smiling. "Your move, Colonel. Come, come—four minutes have gone already."
Kelly’s calm was shattered, and with it went the illusion of the game. The pieces in his power were human beings again. The precious, brutal stuff of command was gone from Colonel Kelly. He was no more fit to make decisions