UNDERWORLD CANTINA, OMEGA
Quirinius V'tala had a knack for three things: speaking whatever was on her mind, chess, and charging headlong into trouble. Such were the gifts she had received from her veritable father, a krogan warlord and lieutenant to an ominously-omnicidal general. His name had also been Quirinius, and once he had discerned his superior's plans, he promptly fought the general to a long and bloody death. Krogan like to kill, yes, but absolutely everyone? No.
She had a sense that the salarian organizer of this makeshift "ultimate chess tournament" had more than a tad of that now-dismembered general's outlook.
"The terms of this tournament are simple," the salarian declared with a barely-detectable smile. "It has three rounds, and the losers either become the slaves of the winners or die--whatever the victors decide. Play fairly. If you do not, or if there are any signs of violating tournament rules, my Eclipse brethren shall violate you--chiefly by blasting a hole through your skulls."
Quirinius shivered. How can salarians be so blase about murder?!
"Sit down at your tables, and begin." The salarian nodded cold-bloodedly.
The two-hundred-year-old asari, rather young for her species, obeyed. She saw that her opponent was also a salarian, this one brightly-colored.
Hello, little girl, his black eyes said. Prepare to be defeated.
Not if I can help it, Quirinius thought, returning his disdainful stare.
She made the first move--white pawn to square e4. King's Pawn Opening.