"Hello?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Who's that?" A head popped up from behind a stack of storage boxes. It was a Galacian elder. Wisps of platinum hair covered his bald head, and his pale green eyes squinted at Obi-Wan. "What is it? Come on, then," he said impatiently, snapping his fingers. "State your business."

Obi-Wan walked closer and peered around the boxes. The man was sitting on the floor. Data printouts were littered around him and coiled in his lap. "I'm looking for Mali Errat-"

"Speak up, boy, don't whisper!"

"Mali Errat," Obi-Wan repeated, louder this time.

"Don't shout! I'm Mali. You look surprised to find me in my own lab, boy.

Well, what do you want?"

"I have something I need analyzed-" Obi-Wan started.

Mali interrupted him again. "Another surprise. You're in a substance analysis lab. Therefore I would assume you have something to be analyzed. Obviously, I am brighter than I look." The old man chortled.

Obi-Wan looked at the cluttered lab, the rolls of data printout that coiled on the floor like snakes. "Maybe you're too busy-"

"Way too busy, it’s true," Mali snapped. "So don't waste my time. Show me your item."

He didn't really have a choice. There was no time to find a more conventional scientist. Or a more polite one. Obi-Wan withdrew the pouch from his tunic. He handed it to Malt.

Mali took out the vial of tea and the little round sweet cakes. "You want me to analyze your lunch?"

Obi-Wan held out his hand. "I can go elsewhere."

"Touchy young man," Mali muttered. "When do you need results?*'

"Right now," Obi-Wan said.