This is a less serious but none the less intended to be realistic story about Thrawn receiving a gift from Eli for his Birthday. All rights belong to Disney and to Timothy Zahn.

Admiral Thrawn stood on the bridge of the Chimera, staring out at Coruscant's skyline as the massive Imperial Star Destroyer awaited it's next orders.

And behind him, Lieutenant Commander Eli Vanto stood, a pensive look on his face. He had a question he wanted to address to his superior, and while it was innocent, to ask such a thing to his superior officer was... well, to put it against protocol was an understatement.

Ah, hell. He thought to himself, straightening his cap and stepping forward.

"Sir?" He asked the Chiss, standing beside him. Vanto then turned his head in order to better observe his face, so he may deduce when a hasty apology would be most effective. That was how Thrawn did it, right?

"Yes, Commander?"

"May I ask you a... well, a personal question?"

Thrawn did not flinch, move, or even break his gaze from the towering buildings of the Industrial District. His crimson eyes narrowed, the thin markings vanishing in the folds of his skin.

"Certainly. However, you will only receive an answer depending on the depth of aforementioned question's personal nature."

Eli swallowed. He wasn't sure how far he'd have gotten. In truth, it was a small thing that bothered him, more of a refresher thought really; one that kept him awake at night.

"You said... You have said that you served alongside General Skywalker in The Clone War. And, not at all intended to step out of line, sir," Eli continued, worry beginning to creep into his voice.

"But... How old are you?"

Eli winced, preparing for a reproachful reprehend on breaching navy protocol, as he would have received from any other Navy officer. But this was Thrawn, who did not abide to regular Navy Protocol, so perhaps all he would say is 'out of bounds' and that would be the end of it, in it's own awkward way. All of these contingencies turned out to be unnecessary, as a rare smile spread out on Thrawn's face in genuine humor. His eyes closed tight, the red markings around them vanishing in the blue wrinckles of his eyes as he gave a small chuckle, his shoulders shaking slightly.

"I am forty seven standard years old, Commander," He said lightly. His humor ceased and his grin turned to a small frown, his eyes opening once again to the skyline of Imperial Center.

"Actually, forty eight in one week today," he confirmed, the hands that lay folded behind his back twitching slightly as he calculated.

"Wha, your Birthday is in a week?"

Thrawn turned to Eli, puzzlement on his face.

"Birthday?"

"Usuku lokuzalwa."

"Ah. Yes, it is my birthday in a week. If I may, why do you ask? And, forgive my own curiosity, but why is there even a word in basic for such a day? Is the date of birth a significant day in human cultures?" The Chiss asked, confusion written across his face, and his eyebrows raised in a quizzical manner.

Eli frowned.

"In many cultures, especially amongst human worlds, the passing of a year in someone's life is celebrated with a party, or exchanging of gifts." He said, keeping his voice even, as to not betray the surprise in his voice. Did the Chiss not celebrate birthdays?

"Ah, I see. In the Chiss Ascendancy, we do not have such celebrations. A mere note of the passage of time, and perhaps a cup of tea shared with a sibling, or close member of the House. Nothing more." Thrawn said passively, his face relaxing at receiving his answer.

However, the passive surprise stuck with Eli; his superior officer was away from home and far away from any comfort he could have to celebrate his birthday regularly. Besides, even if he didn't necessarily celebrate it, wouldn't it still be a polite thing to help him enjoy that day.

He dismissed himself from the bridge and moved towards his quarters, where his data pad sat on his bed. He had some research to do.

Two days and two sleepless nights later, Eli stood over arcane records of Lysatra trade deals, hand written in Sy Bisti on sheets of reed fibers. His stance as a Commander in the Imperial Navy allowed him significant leeway with the manifests of these ships; even though most were made public, some were kept discreet, or else out of the way.

Especially the pages detailing the trade deals with the Chiss.

He found they traded a great many things, and purchased even more. Kaibur crystals, rare mineral dusts, and raw goods such as ore and energy.

The planters of Lysatra were often asked to ship a form of tea leaf, known locally as Xixe, and which produced an amber liquid with a deep, savory flavor. If he crossed the demand, and converted it to the amount purchased... The Chiss certainly must have drank this tea with regularity, and Thrawn would defiantly enjoy this as a drink.

He then turned to his least favored part of his research, but one that he would undertake none the less; the culinary portion of his research.

So he dug...

And dug...

And dug...

He was on leave, and was allowed to do with his spare time as he wished, but the incessant digging through old archive data...

And then, he found it!

A detailed description of a Chiss Dignitary, and the meal he ate during a recess in a political treaty with the Old Republic and the Chiss Ascendancy.

The Alien, wrapped in great cloth sheets and togas of red, white, blue, and gold...

Eli stopped reading, surprised by the style of dress. It seemed... very simple, for lack of a better word. Such an advanced race, to dress in robes like that seemed odd... But then again, time makes cultures; and they had spent a long time apart from the rest of the Galaxy. He continued reading the description.

The being opened a small box, and with a pair of smooth wooden stakes held in the hand like pincers, small pastries, cubed meats, and the buds of flowers; all the respective size of a mouthful. He lifted them between the wooden utensils, and consumed them, savoring each bite in turn.

Eli ceased reading. He was familiar with the eating utensils, known by several names on their respective worlds, but known in basic as a Chop Stick. They were found on many humans worlds, from Mandalor to Mykapo. He also knew of the box and the meal that lay within. It was one of the more prestigious foods of Lysatra, and according to legend was passed down to them by the secretive Chiss themselves.

It would take a small while to get the recipe... But he knew he could do it

Commander Faro, as a senior officer, was perfectly entitled to leave the ship while the crew were on shore leave. However, she enjoyed the quiet of the ship. It allowed her to get her datawork, that had begun to pile in both her electronic inbox and on her desk, without the constant interruptions of loud com messages, or troops entering and requesting her presence on the bridge, when he was sure half of them were just hoping to enter her quarters unannounced while she was changing. She was halfway through a document on a group of captured pirates, when her stomach growled.

Deciding to delay the document until later, she stood and moved towards the mess. Knowing no staff would be there, she entered the mess through the Kitchen's back service door. One protein stick and a glass of water wouldn't hurt...

She opened the door, and was surprised by what she saw.

Actually, 'surprised' was an understatement.

Admiral Thrawn's Aid and Translator, Lieutenant Commander Eli Vanto, stood in his uniform's black undershirt, and wearing a cooks apron. In one hand was a metal mixing spoon, and nestled in his arm was a clear glass bowl with a large white, bumpy looking mass inside.

"What the-" She began, looking around the room.

The kitchen was a disaster, nearly a dozen cutting boards being used, an archaic mixer was placed on a metal countertop, whirring away with some sort of paste inside. Turning her head to her right, she saw the cook droid deactivated in a corner.

"If you wanted some real food, you could have powered up the droid to fix you something, you know..." She said, confusion evident in her voice.

"Sir!" Eli said, startled. He had evidently not seen her enter, or heard her.

"Oh, ah... Well, this recipe wasn't programmed in the droid's memory banks, and I wanted to add a personal touch to it." He explained, continuing to stir. The Commander approached Eli, looking over his shoulder at the ingredients. A menagerie of expensive flowers from the far outer rim were in a durasteel crate on the ground, and a small wax paper parcel that looked like it contained some form of... beans?

"What on earth are you making..?"

"Well..."

"lieutenant."

"Its... It's the Admiral's birthday in one hour, and I have been attempting to make some dishes I believe are eaten by his culture." Eli said sheepishly, his shoulders slumping slightly at the mess around him. Faro blinked slightly, surprised. Of all the answers... She was not expecting that. She certainly had nothing against the Admiral, but there was that quiet assumption that there would be that condescending glare she had lived under all the way to where she now stood, but this... this would be a good way to clear the air between the two, or at least make her peace with her misjudgment.

"How can I help?"

The words left her lips before she could even catch them and register what she was saying, but she meant every letter and every word. Eli smiled widely.

"Alright, the recipe is right over there, perhaps you can get started on the paste."

The door slid shut behind the Admiral as he entered his private quarters. The lights in the hallway leading towards his office, his training dojo, and his sleeping quarters lit up with a light hum. In his hand, Thrawn held a datapad on some notes and calculations he had on one of the many rebel cells spanning the galaxy, and he wanted to deposit them into his algorithm on his central computer. He pressed the combination to open the door to his office, the door hissing open slowly and the soft yellow glow of the internal lights shining on several pieces of artwork and beautiful architecture he had collected in his career.

However, something was out of place.

Sitting plainly on his desk, was a large, metallic dome with a handle on it. He stiffened, leaping to the side and into the training Dojo. Grasping his sidearm, he peered around the corner. His acute hearing did not pick up any mechanisms or count down, the trademark signs of a bomb. He did not see any evidence of a tripwire, or any other trap set up by an assailant.

Reaching for his Code Cylinder, and directing the object into the nearest security panel, he was greeted with the somewhat reassuring, and confusing information that the last person inside had been his aid, Lieutenant Commander Eli Vanto. Thrawn gave a small frown at the holoscreen delivering him this information. Deeming it safe to stand in his office instead of the Dojo, he approached the Cylinder. He had no recording devices or security cameras, and was thus unable to see if it had truly been Eli, or if it had been an infiltrator using his Cylinder. As he approached the dome, he now saw it in greater detail. It was a Plate Cover, as used in the gatherings of distinguished people, as they found it entertaining to be surprised by their meal, and had it thus concealed in a metallic dome.

He gripped the metal handle and lifted it cautiously, unsure what to expect. No motion activated explosion was triggered, so that immediately put the Chiss at ease.

Lifting it completely and placing it to the side, he was greeted with an enchantingly familiar aroma...

There were three small cakes, each one more intricate than the last, and a simple cup of tea and a kettle sitting on a heating pad. But everything was just so...

Thrawn paced around his desk, watching the plate as he moved towards his chair. The plate itself was made by the Chiss, he recognized the decorative edges, giving it a unique design as if it were crimped like a pastry. Resting out of sight in front of his seat was a pair of Chop Sticks, of a Lysatran design, with a pair of Felines etched into the wood. The curvature showed that it was done by hand; a rare thing in this time an age.

And the cup...

The cup was definitely of House Nuruodo, the stern edges, the shape... How did he get all of this...

The foods were of the Chiss, he saw a light blue Daifuku, an Argar cube wrapped in a luminescent green leaf, that he knew as a Yomku fond, and a Namagashi the color of a bright pink. How did he get all of this... That plant is native to Csilla alone...

He took a small sip of his tea, and gasped aloud.

Xixe tea...

He opened his eyes in the dining hall of his home, he saw snowflakes flying in the air as winter approached. He heard a noise behind him, and felt the cold wind of the planet of his home blow on his neck...

Only to truly open his eyes to the sound of his air conditioning unit activating.

He smiled down at his wonderful reminder of home, but then noticed there was one thing that Eli had forgotten, that Thrawn knew he could easily retrieve. Pressing a button on his desk, the small hologram of a nameless officer on the ship appeared.

"Yes, Admiral?"

"Please bring Commander Vanto to my office." Thrawn said. The man nodded, and cut the connection. Thrawn, satisfied, opened a drawer in his desk to retrieve a small letter opener. He had very few physical papers to cut open, and after a small dusting, he was able to portion the tea snacks in half. reaching into his drawer, he removed a few small utensils he always had on hand in case he was forced to consume a meal in his office; a small cup, a plate, and other things.

He smiled as Eli entered the room, and motioned to sit down across from him. Eli grinned sheepishly.

"Happy birthday, Sir."

This was just a cute kinda story I thought of. I was laying in bed, and began wondering 'wait, Thrawn met Anakin, and looks pretty young by the time of Rebels... how old is he?' and then had a train of thought that led to this story, I hope you enjoy! If enough people enjoy this, I will post a sequel of Thrawn returning the favor. Cloaked Writer out! :)