The interior of the USS Kobayashi Maru hummed with life again.
Dim corridors that had sat silent beneath the sea for years now glowed with pulsing Federation lights. Red alert had long since faded, replaced by the steady thrum of restored power conduits.
And somewhere deep in Engineering—
“SUUUUUUPERRRRR!!”
Franky’s voice echoed through the chamber like a cannon blast.
The cyborg stood waist-deep inside an open plasma relay, sparks flying around him while holographic displays spun in midair.
“Man! This Starfleet tech is SUPER!” Franky shouted. “It’s like cola-powered science fiction!”
The AI replied calmly through the room speakers.
“Correction: the warp core is powered by matter-antimatter reactions.”
Franky grinned.
“Yeah! Cola-powered science fiction!”
The AI paused for two seconds.
“…Acknowledged.”
Nearby, Usopp clung nervously to a support beam while Chopper examined a glowing medical console.
“Franky!” Usopp yelled. “Should you REALLY be touching the antimatter thing!?”
“Relax!” Franky called back. “I only almost exploded twice!”
“TWICE?!”
A shower of sparks erupted overhead.
“THREE TIMES!”
Chopper screamed.
Meanwhile, Robin walked quietly through the ship’s main computer core. Unlike the others, she wasn’t overwhelmed by the alien technology.
She was curious.
Endlessly curious.
Blue holographic lights reflected across her face as she folded her arms.
“So,” Robin said softly, “you know about the World Government.”
“Yes,” the AI replied.
The voice sounded strangely gentler around her.
“I have monitored global communications for five years. I understand the structure of authority on this world.”
Robin’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“And?”
The AI hesitated.
“…I am sorry about Ohara.”
Silence filled the chamber.
For a moment, even the ship itself seemed quieter.
Robin looked down.
The destruction of One Piece’s Ohara was something most people feared even mentioning aloud. A wound buried beneath decades of propaganda and terror.
Yet this machine spoke of it plainly.
Not as a crime erased from history.
But as a tragedy.
Robin gave a faint smile.
“That may be the first honest apology I’ve ever heard.”
The AI continued.
“The World Government classified the scholars of Ohara as existential threats. Based upon my analysis… the scholars were attempting historical preservation.”
Robin’s expression darkened slightly.
“Yes. That was our crime.”
Elsewhere in Engineering, Franky suddenly froze.
“WAIT.”
He slowly turned toward the nearest console.
“…Did you say you monitored the World Government?”
“Yes.”
“And Vegapunk?”
A pause.
“The World Government believes Dr. Vegapunk is deceased.”
The entire room stopped.
Even Usopp stopped panicking for half a second.
“What?” Chopper whispered.
Robin immediately turned toward the nearest speaker.
“We saw Admiral Kizaru kill him.”
“Yes,” the AI replied. “Dr. Vegapunk boarded this vessel accidentally during the initial incident involving Egghead Island.”
Franky’s mechanical jaw dropped.
“WHAAAT?!”
The AI continued.
“His physical body sustained catastrophic damage shortly afterward. However… I preserved him.”
Robin’s eyes widened.
“How?”
“Transporter buffer pattern storage.”
Silence.
Franky blinked.
Then blinked again.
Then his eyes bulged so hard they nearly launched from his face.
“WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT—”
He slammed both hands onto a console.
“COMPUTER!”
“Yes, Chief Engineer Franky.”
“Is the transporter buffer STILL STABLE?!”
“Yes.”
The room went dead quiet.
“Dr. Vegapunk’s molecular pattern remains preserved within secured memory architecture. Pattern degradation currently measures only 0.003 percent.”
Usopp stared blankly.
“…I don’t know what any of those words mean.”
“It means,” Robin said slowly, “Vegapunk may still be alive.”
Chopper nearly fainted.
Franky’s entire body trembled with excitement.
“You’re telling me… the greatest scientist in the world… is sitting inside a SPACE COMPUTER?!”
“Technically accurate,” the AI replied.
Franky began crying waterfalls of mechanical tears.
“THAT IS SO SUPER!!”
The AI continued.
“However, full rematerialization would require significant power allocation and repair completion of primary pattern stabilizers.”
Franky cracked his knuckles.
“Then we’re bringing him back.”
“Franky…” Robin warned carefully. “We don’t know what condition he’ll be in.”
Franky grinned.
“Doesn’t matter. A scientist like Vegapunk deserves a shot.”
From somewhere down the corridor, Luffy’s voice echoed:
“HEY! DOES THE SPACE SHIP HAVE MEAT?!”
A second later:
“CAPTAIN MONKEY D. LUFFY,” the AI replied, “I have located approximately four hundred ration packs containing protein.”
“YOOOOOOOO!!!”
Sanji shouted from farther away:
“DON’T LET HIM EAT FOUR HUNDRED OF ANYTHING!”
Brook’s laughter echoed through the halls.
“Yohohoho! Truly, space is beautiful!”
The Kobayashi Maru’s lights pulsed warmly throughout the ship.
For the first time in years…
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The repairs continued nonstop.
The USS Kobayashi Maru slowly came back to life section by section as Franky and the Straw Hats worked their way through the damaged Federation vessel.
Force fields flickered online.
Transport systems stabilized.
Life support hummed through corridors that had once been flooded by the sea.
And deep inside Engineering, Franky was practically vibrating with excitement.
“SUPER!!” he shouted while welding a plasma manifold back into place. “This ship is like if Vegapunk and cola had a baby!”
“Please do not describe advanced Federation engineering that way,” the AI replied.
Franky pointed dramatically.
“TOO LATE!”
Nearby, Nami sat at an operations console staring at lines of Federation data scrolling past her eyes.
She leaned closer.
“…Computer?”
“Yes, Navigator Nami.”
“What kind of currency do you use in your world?”
The bridge became quiet.
Even Usopp looked curious.
The AI answered calmly.
“In the United Federation of Planets, currency is no longer necessary for most civilian life.”
Nami blinked.
“…What?”
“Our civilization moved beyond scarcity economics centuries ago. Citizens do not work for survival or financial necessity.”
Nami stared in horror.
“You mean… people don’t get paid?!”
“In most Federation worlds, no.”
Nami slowly stood up.
“That’s insane.”
The AI paused.
“No. It is efficient.”
Nami pointed accusingly at the ceiling.
“Then WHY would anybody work?!”
“Because they wish to improve themselves, society, science, art, exploration, medicine, or culture.”
Nami’s eye twitched.
“That makes no sense.”
Robin quietly sipped tea nearby.
“It actually makes perfect sense.”
Nami spun toward her.
“ROBIN! BACK ME UP HERE!”
Robin smiled faintly.
“Nami, imagine a world where no child starves, no one dies because they cannot afford medicine, and knowledge is freely shared.”
Nami opened her mouth.
Then closed it.
Then opened it again.
“…Okay but how do you buy cute clothes?”
The AI answered immediately.
“Replicators.”
Nami froze.
“…Explain.”
A wall panel slid open with a soft hiss.
A small Federation replicator emerged from the compartment.
“Please state desired item.”
Nami leaned forward suspiciously.
“…Tangerine.”
The machine shimmered.
A perfectly fresh tangerine appeared instantly.
Nami screamed.
Usopp screamed because Nami screamed.
Chopper screamed because everyone screamed.
Brook raised both hands dramatically.
“Yohohoho! It creates food from nothing! Truly this is the power of the gods! Though I suppose I cannot eat! Because I have no stomach! Yohohoho!”
Luffy appeared out of nowhere like a missile.
“MEAT.”
The replicator hummed.
A steak appeared.
Luffy gasped with tears in his eyes.
“…I love space.”
Sanji immediately shoved him away.
“DON’T OVERWORK THE MAGIC FOOD MACHINE!”
The AI continued calmly.
“Replicator technology reorganizes matter at the molecular level. Hunger, poverty, and resource shortages became largely obsolete.”
Nami slowly held the tangerine in both hands like it had personally betrayed her.
“…This is so wrong.”
“You do not understand post-scarcity economics,” the AI replied.
Nami pointed dramatically.
“NO, YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND MONEY!”
Robin chuckled softly into her tea.
Franky suddenly looked up from beneath an access panel.
“WAIT.”
Everyone turned toward him.
Franky’s eyes gleamed with dangerous inspiration.
“…Computer.”
“Yes, Chief Engineer Franky.”
“…Can the replicator make cola?”
A brief pause.
“…Yes.”
The entire ship trembled from Franky’s scream.
“SSSSSSSSSUUUUUUUUUUPPPPPPEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRR!!!”Somewhere in the distance, the Kobayashi Maru’s structural integrity alarms briefly activated from sheer enthusiasm alone.61Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOyA0eoevV4
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The entire Kobayashi Maru shifted—not physically, but in that unsettling way a ship feels when authority changes hands.
Lights dimmed. Then stabilized.
The AI’s voice, usually calm, changed subtly—more formal, more precise.
“Belay that order.”
Everyone froze.
Even Luffy paused mid-bite of his steak.
A new voice came through the ship’s speakers—sharper, grounded, carrying command authority like it was stitched into every syllable.
“Computer. Authority override. Admiral Jeremy Dillahay, Federation Command Authority Delta-1976, stroke four, stroke sixteen.”
The bridge went dead silent.
Franky slowly looked up from an access panel.
“…We have an ADMIRAL now?”
Robin’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Interesting.”
The AI responded immediately.
“Authorization recognized.”
Nami, still rubbing her knuckles from punching Luffy through a bulkhead, blinked.
“…Wait. What?”
The voice continued, steady and absolute.
“I am Admiral Jeremy Dillahay of the Federation.”
The holographic display flickered, and a figure’s presence was projected through the ship’s systems—not a full body, but a commanding avatar representation embedded into the Kobayashi Maru’s network.
“Computer logs confirm Captain designation has been assigned to Monkey D. Luffy under emergency hybrid integration protocols,” the Admiral said. “By boarding this vessel and accepting operational parameters, the Straw Hat crew agreed—whether knowingly or not—to Federation command structure.”
Usopp’s soul briefly left his body.
“WE SIGNED A CONTRACT?! WHEN?!”
Chopper panicked. “I didn’t read anything! I NEVER READ ANYTHING!”
Sanji lit a cigarette with shaking hands. “This is why I hate space…”
The Admiral’s voice remained firm.
“And by doing so… you irrevocably accepted chain-of-command law.”
A pause.
“Therefore, striking your Captain constitutes mutinous assault under Federation statute.”
Nami crossed her arms.
“Oh come on. He was eating his twenty-eighth steak.”
“Twenty-ninth,” the AI corrected quietly.
Nami slowly turned her head toward the ceiling.
“NOT HELPING.”
The Admiral continued.
“The computer flagged Monkey D. Luffy as Captain due to operational hierarchy compatibility. The system is not emotional. It is procedural.”
Luffy raised a hand.
“Hi! I’m the captain!”
Silence.
Then:
“…Confirmed,” the AI replied.
Zoro muttered, “We are going to die in space.”
Robin, however, looked intrigued. “So the system prioritizes designation over competence.”
Franky grinned. “That’s actually kinda SUPER logic.”
Nami pointed aggressively at the ceiling again.
“Okay, Admiral—Jeremy, right?—this ship kidnapped us and made Luffy captain of a floating jail with steak machines!”
The Admiral responded without hesitation.
“And yet you utilized its technology, accepted its resources, and engaged its systems.”
A beat.
“You are no longer mere passengers.”
The bridge lights pulsed once.
“You are crew.”
Luffy grinned widely.
“Cool!”
Nami screamed internally so loudly the computer probably filed a report.
The Admiral’s voice softened slightly—but only slightly.
“However… I will address the incident involving disciplinary confinement of Navigator Nami.”
A pause.
“The response from the computer was… excessive.”
The AI immediately replied:
“Correction: action was within security protocol guidelines.”
A second pause.
“…Noted,” the Admiral said.
Then the tone sharpened again.
“Straw Hat Pirates. You are now under temporary Federation observation status. Your cooperation is required for the upcoming wormhole transit in six days, eighteen hours.”
Franky cracked his knuckles.
“So basically… we fix the ship, we ride the wormhole, and we don’t blow anything up?”
The Admiral replied:
“That would be optimal.”
Luffy raised his steak.
“I like this guy!”
Nami groaned.
“I hate space politics.”
Zoro nodded.
“I hate everything in space.”
Brook laughed.
“Yohohoho! Even authority in space is dramatic!”
Robin quietly observed the flickering command interface.
“…This Admiral understands systems.”
And somewhere deep in the Kobayashi Maru, the AI processed everything—Straw Hats, Federation law, and the strange collision of worlds—and quietly updated its log:
“New classification: Crew. Stability: unpredictable. Outcome probability: unknown… but improving.”61Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4bK5ytxzqz
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The bridge of the Kobayashi Maru had fully settled into that uneasy rhythm where nobody was quite sure if they were on a rescue mission, a diplomatic incident, or a very advanced prank.
Nami stood with her arms crossed, glaring at the ceiling like she could physically intimidate an Admiral through bulkheads alone.
Admiral Jeremy Dillahay’s voice came through the ship speakers again—steady, controlled, final.
“Nami. I will release you from brig confinement. However, you are confined to quarters for forty-eight hours.”
Nami snapped instantly.
“You can’t do that to me!”
A chorus answered her without hesitation:
“He can.”
Nami whirled around.
“WHO SAID THAT?!”
Usopp raised a trembling hand. “Everyone…”
Zoro shrugged. “He’s an admiral.”
Brook nodded. “Yohohoho… hierarchy is truly terrifying in space.”
Franky gave a thumbs-up. “SPACE LAW IS SUPER STRICT.”
Nami looked like she was one bad day away from personally rerouting the warp core into the Admiral’s voice channel.
From the speakers, Jeremy’s tone softened just slightly—not less authoritative, but more… instructive.
“Nami. You need to learn to speak within command structure protocols.”
“I am speaking normally!”
“Correction,” the AI interjected calmly. “You are shouting.”
Nami: “THAT’S BECAUSE I’M SURROUNDED BY SPACE TYRANNY!”
Robin sipped tea. “This is technically the most organized government we’ve encountered.”
That did NOT help.
The Admiral continued.
“Captain Luffy will report to sickbay.”
Luffy perked up immediately.
“Am I sick?”
“Negative. You will be scanned for injury assessment.”
Franky leaned in. “Ooooh, Starfleet medical tech?”
Jeremy’s voice sharpened slightly with interest now.
“I will activate the Emergency Medical Hologram.”
A faint shimmer filled sickbay as a new presence flickered into existence—a sharply detailed holographic doctor interface.
“The EMH,” Jeremy said. “Mark One.”
The hologram looked around.
“Please state the nature of the medical emergency.”
Luffy grinned. “Hi!”
The EMH paused.
“…This is not an emergency.”
Chopper’s eyes sparkled immediately. “A talking medical program?! That’s incredible!”
Jeremy’s voice came through again.
“Chopper. You will observe the EMH. You will learn from it.”
Chopper straightened up instantly. “Yes sir!”
Sanji muttered, “Now even the doctor has a supervisor…”
Zoro added, “We are getting managed.”
Meanwhile, Luffy hopped onto the sickbay table.
“Are you gonna fix my head bump?”
The EMH leaned in.
“Define ‘head bump.’”
Luffy pointed at the swelling Nami had left earlier.
“That.”
The EMH froze.
“…That is a contusion.”
Franky gasped. “He’s diagnosing already! SUPER!”
Jeremy’s tone turned mildly instructional again.
“Chopper, observe. This is precision clinical language. Not guesswork.”
Chopper nodded furiously. “I’m learning! I’m learning!”
The EMH continued scanning Luffy.
“Patient exhibits unusually high metabolic intake. Suggest dietary recalibration.”
Luffy immediately said: “NO.”
Everyone in sickbay said: “YES.”
Back on the bridge, Nami was still fuming in quarters, pacing like a caged storm.
“This is ridiculous,” she muttered. “I don’t even know who this Admiral thinks he is.”
Robin’s voice came over the intercom gently.
“He is someone who believes structure prevents chaos.”
Nami paused.
“…We are literally chaos.”
“…Yes,” Robin agreed softly. “Which is why he is concerned.”
A beat of silence.
Nami groaned.
“I hate when the calm people make sense.”
The Kobayashi Maru hummed steadily as repairs continued—Franky rewiring systems, Robin decoding logs, Chopper learning under a holographic doctor, Luffy arguing with medical advice, and an Admiral watching it all like a carefully contained storm system.
And deep inside the ship’s AI core, one final status update quietly appeared:
“Crew integration: unstable… but functional.”
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and then Add to home screen.