Spock and McCoy were in the transporter room, waiting for Scotty to finish tinkering and resetting the transporter. McCoy was pacing, medikit in hand as he muttered darkly about modern technology and how dangerous it was to be splitting a man's atoms apart everytime they had to leave the ship. Spock remained silent, standing at parade rest as he continued staring at the empty transporter platform. It had been over a day since they lost their captain.

When Scotty resurface and claimed with tentative confidence that he might've fixed the transporter, everyone was skeptical. But just as he was about to try to beam their missing captain back up, the transporter worked on its own and deposited Captain James T. Kirk back onto the Enterprise.

Spock raised an eyebrow while Scotty and McCoy gaped at the grinning Jim Kirk. He wasn't in his gold uniform tunic anymore. Instead, he was wearing an embroidered robe of deep blue and gold fit for a king.

Leaping from the platform, he beamed at them all and did a vain little turn for the three stunned commanders.

"How do I look?" Jim asked with a grin.

McCoy was the first to recover his tongue and he went straight up to Jim and glared.

"Where the hell have you been, Jim?"

"Asgard, Bones! My dad's a Norse god—" McCoy shut his delusional captain up with a hypo to the neck. It was way too early for Jim's cocky bullshit.