UNDERWORLD CANTINA, OMEGA
It was true that salarians lived short lives. Most did not live past the age of 40, even if their high metabolism graced them with such a brief span of years. The organizer of the chess tournament at the Underworld Cantina was not one to receive such grace, and he resented it immensely. Even at twenty years old, salarian middle age, he exhibited all the telltale signs of an elderly, nearly senile member of his species. It was why his chess tournament had such bizarre and lethal rules. It was his tournament, and no one else's. No younger, fitter minds were going to tell him how to run it.
"Agreed," the salarian said quickly, dropping Quirinius V'tala like a load of hot coals. She landed on the floor with a sickening thud. The arm bones and muscles of her slimy captor had not been the strongest, whereas his mind...When he was lucid, and not in the throes of forgetting, repeating, or obsessing over something, he was a recognized genius among his peers.
Immediately after he had let Quirinius fall, he stammered, "All right. I have complied with your request. Please remove your pistol from my occipital lobe." He was visibly sweating, and his skin shone red in Omega's firelight glow.