Disclaimer: I don't own any of the various universes this fic meanders into, this is intended entirely as a tribute and entertainment.
Further disclaimer: This is more or less a crack fic. I can't really come up with a better description than that. Hopefully the muse will hold out till it's done.
The Ops crew barely glanced up at Commander Sisko as he exited his office, heading in the general direction of Colonel Kira's station. Absently he heard the faint mechanical click of the door closing as he sipped his raktijino. Though he tried to carry himself with as much energy and confidence as ever, he knew the strain of the war was starting to show through, at least enough for some of his closer associates to notice. Especially since the Romulans joined the war.
Best not to think about that part.
Too much to think about these days. He sipped at his drink. Behind him he heard the mechanical click of his office opening. It didn't properly register until he saw Colonel Kira do a double-take towards his office. He spun around and saw a teenaged boy.
He was looking around, looking somewhat confused. The youth wore a yellow-and-black bandana, black pants and a yellow shirt. A red umbrella perched on his shoulder, he said, "Uh, hi."
Commander Worf almost instantly had a phaser trained on the stranger, growling, "Identify yourself, intruder!"
The stranger gave Worf and his phaser a measuring look, then said, "Ryoga Hibiki. Where in Japan is this?"
The sheer absurdity of the statement held everyone silent for a moment. Sisko was the first to find his voice. "Japan? You think you're in Japan?"
The stranger blinked. "I'm not?"
For a moment the only sound in Ops was from the displays. "No. You're not." He tapped his comm badge. "Sisko to Odo. I need a security team to ops."
"They're on their way, Captain."
Ryoga looked around the room. Not everyone there was human. They were more or less all looking at him with suspicion. He hated when he found his way into restricted areas. Explaining things to military types was such a pain, they tended to have no sense of humor. This looked to be no different. These people were not happy. Only one of them had the look of a real fighter, one of the not-entirely-human types with dark skin. He didn't recognize the thing being pointed at him, but it looked vaguely weaponesque. He tried to look casual as whoever the black Captain had asked to come showed up. He didn't know who these people were but he didn't much feel like getting himself into more trouble if he could avoid it. He had no idea where he was, though based on the reaction of the man who'd called himself Sisko, it was far from home. Probably America, given that everyone was speaking English, though there were a couple odd accents almost under their words.
Given how surprised they all were to see a stranger, it was probably some kind of secret military base. He was probably in a lot of trouble.
It was all Ranma's fault, he was sure of it.
The security team had politely but firmly taken him to the lift. It had the open-framed design he associated with non-public places. Definitely some kind of base. The security officers were in dull-yellow jumpsuits, rather than the red-and-black of most of the ops people. The dark-skinned warrior was joining them in getting him out of where ever he was.
The elevator was going down. This did not fill Ryoga with confidence that he'd made a good choice in going quietly. Well, underground or not, he could generally find his way out of any strange place he got to, though he could never really figure out how to go back deliberately. At least it kept things interesting.
The lift stopped, doors opening, and another person walked in. He wasn't human, almost as strange looking as the one called Worf, but close. Sort of reptile-like. Cheerily, he said, "Good afternoon mister Worf! I'm afraid I haven't quite finished adjusting that suit for you. I'll finish it up as soon as I get back to my shop, however."
The dark-skinned warrior spoke in his half-growl, "Thank you, Mister Garack. I will be along to see it once I bring this... intruder... to the security office."
The one called Garack stepped into the lift. "Where did you find this ragged stranger?" His gaze flickered critically across Ryoga's form, cataloging his appearance.
"Ops. We do not know how he got there."
"I honestly don't know either. I'm not even sure where here is."
"Really?" The reptilian one seemed genuinely interested as the elevator started moving again. "Well, if you get a chance once Odo's done with you, come by my shop. I can get you some newer clothes, those ones look just dreadful."
Ryoga wasn't really sure how to answer that. He normally didn't care about what people thought of his clothes – he dressed for extended periods away from civilization, not for looks – but something about the scaly guy made him feel self-conscious. He mumbled something vaguely defensive as the lift came to a halt again. A nudge from one of the security types told them this was their stop. Distractedly, he walked out of the elevator. They followed.
Worf, paying attention to his prisoner and trying not to pay attention to the Cardassian, made it almost ten steps before realizing he wasn't walking onto the promenade. From the sudden intake of breath, Liran, Mor, and Garack took almost as long to notice themselves. His hand dropped onto the boy's shoulder, bringing him up short as he looked around.
They were on a federation starship. The corridor was too wide to be the Defiant, and he had no idea where they were. The two Bajoran security men moved to cover the corridor behind them – there was no sign of a turbolift back there – as Worf tried to make sense of things.
Garack seemed to recover quickest. "Well. This is most interesting. Computer," he waited a moment for an answering beep, "What is our present location?"
The familiar, smooth female voice answered. "Deck twelve, section ten."
Worf growled, "What ship, computer?"
There was a moment's confused silence as they processed that. Then the name registered, and the four of them nearly panicked. Ryoga just looked at them, wondering what the fuss was.