Hugo Damask, aka Darth Plagueis, sat with his co-conspirators in Hyperfusion and considered the owner. Such a fascinating and enigmatic man! While the Force swept about him like a storm he seemed unaffected by its currents. Also, he was entirely unmoved by ambition, no, that was not right. Sheev Palpatine was obsessed with the culinary arts. A pity, with a different focus such a mind could bring the Great Plan to fruition. Still, his formidable talents were not to be wasted.
"Hello Mr Damask, the usual tonight?" said Palpatine. Hugo nodded and then Palpatine turned to the others at the table. 'What will you gentlemen be having?" he asked the two Nemoidians.
The two beings indicated they would have the boiled Kayla in Stefi Jus.
"Something to drink? If you could indicate the nature of the occasion then I am sure I could suggest something?"
From anyone else, Hugo would be suspicious, but Sheev only cared that a meal was accompanied correctly. "My colleague has recently had some success in the Courts."
"Hmm, I would recommend the Kalifraun Sparling Blue then," said Palpatine.
Hugo watched him go. What a loss to the cause, but still an amazing chef.
Palpatine entered his kitchen. "A Keethra Root Stew and two Boiled Kayla for table six." he said.
"Of course," said Shmi, who began to collect the ingredients.
Palpatine went to find the bottle of Kalifraun when there was a crash. Turning he saw Shmi on the floor picking up several scattered bottles of spices. As he moved over to help, she looked up, fear evident in her eyes.
"I am so sorry, I didn't mean to." she stammered.
"Nonsense, accidents happen," said Palpatine.
"You're not angry? These spices" asked Shmi.
"Are replaceable, a cook of your skill is not," said Palpatine.
"Oh, I'm no-one special." protested Shmi.
Palpatine rather doubted that. The woman was a genius. Also an ex-slave he realised belatedly. Another thought occurred to him.
"Anything else you were doing while getting the spices?" he inquired.
"Oh, I was checking the floor to see if it was a Muun wanting the Zeethra. It's a popular dish in their culture," said Shmi. Palpatine nodded and she continued. "Well, I noticed the Muun and then, well Mr Palpatine, it was as if someone had walked over my grave. I am so sorry."
"Don't be. Say, how about you take a break, get some fresh air. No buts, Ms Skywalker. I insist. I'll prepare the meals." he said and then shooed Shmi out. As he prepared the meals Palpatine wondered about his assistant. How was it that she could detect anything amiss about Hugo? It bore further investigation.
"You shouldn't be doing this Mr Palpatine." protested Shmi for what was the fifth time.
"Nonsense, Ms Skywalker. In fact, I consider it my humble duty to show you some of the wonders of the Greatest City." Palpatine said. He made a turn and the dome of the Senate came into view. "For example, the Galactic Senate. Here decisions are made concerning affairs across our Galaxy."
Shmi wrapped her clothes about her. "Err, can I turn the heat up a bit?" she asked.
It was a bright, warm, sunny temperature-controlled day. Yet his passenger felt cold at the sight of Galactic government. He also turned the heat up.
"There. Better?", he said. Shmi nodded. "Well, it's not everyone's thing. Perhaps the Great Conservatorium?" he suggested as he changed course.
That night, having dropped Shmi off he travelled back to observe again the most interesting revelation of the tour. He regarded the Jedi Temple. Shmi had described it as a 'bright shining light, almost sparkling' but had then reported feeling a chill similar to when she had spied Hugo. Was there something rotten at the core of the great Jedi Order? The place where his new cook's son was studying. What was Hugo up to and why was it threatening the best culinary partnership since Zapozi and Carter? This would not do!
He would need a plan.
Later;
"Are you sure about this?" asked Shmi dubiously.
"Absolutely," said Palpatine. "Think of it as a way for the common sophont on the street to get a taste of our cooking."
"Paper hats, fryers, a place for speeders to pull up and drive off with a meal?" said Shmi.
"I have a feeling. Trust me. Sign here." said Palpatine, smiling.
Shmi picked up the stylus, then paused. Why are you doing this? Making me a partner I mean.
"Many of the recipes we'll be using are your own. It would be criminal of me not to acknowledge that," said Palpatine with another smile.
Shmi moved to sign, then paused again.
"This will generate wealth beyond imagination, Ms Skywalker. No-one, not the Cartels or anyone else will be able to own you or yours ever again," said Palpatine.
Shmi signed.
Hugo was working late as always when a minion brought in a flimsi.
"Sir, you said anything with this name attached was to be brought to your immediate attention," said the minion placing the flimsi and attendant data chip.
Hugo looked at the flimsi and inserted the chip into a reader. It was a business plan.
'Tired of the same old, same old meals? Already worn out after a day of bureaucracy? Need some spice in your life? Come to Papa Sheev's for a taste of the Galaxy! Papa Sheev's, where every meal is a taste explosion! Something for all races with special meals just for the younglings!'
Hugo read on. Oh, Palpatine was opening a diner. Wait, he was independently wealthy, he could open a diner on his own, why was he applying for a loan? Oh, he was opening five hundred diners all at particular locations in the Administration district on Coruscant. He checked several of the locations. They were all located in business sectors but conveniently near residential areas too. Ideal for a sentient looking for a meal on the run or as a dinner treat and break from the monotony. He noted the plans for the delivery service. He could work away at his other projects and have his favourite foods brought piping hot to him! Amazing, the brilliance of the man.
In his enthusiasm to okay the loan on behalf of the IGBC Hugo failed to notice that the location of the diners formed an ancient glyph. It was not his fault, such knowledge had been lost in the fall of the last great Sith Empire. A spell long thought was forgotten and with good reason.