With gritted teeth, you slam your palm against the emergency override panel. The machine shudders violently as the temporal vortex distorts around you. Sparks erupt from the console as you wrestle with the brass navigation wheel, muscles straining against the g-forces threatening to tear the ship apart.

The display screen flickers between eras like a malfunctioning film reel - Victorian London's gaslit streets, the pyramids under construction, a lunar colony bathed in Earthlight. Your eyes lock onto the Renaissance period, remembering your original mission objectives. With a final heave, you wrench the wheel clockwise until it clicks into place.

The time machine groans like a living creature as it obeys your command. The swirling colors outside coalesce into recognizable shapes - terracotta rooftops, cobblestone streets, and the distant sound of church bells. The ship materializes with a bone-jarring thud in what appears to be a secluded vineyard, its metal frame half-buried in grapevines.

As the steam clears from the cracked viewport, you see a young woman in a simple peasant dress frozen mid-step, her basket of grapes tumbling from her hands. Her wide eyes reflect both fear and wonder as she takes in the strange metal contraption that just appeared in her family's fields. The scent of fermenting grapes and woodsmoke fills the cabin as you realize your navigation worked - but the year display now reads 1492, flashing ominously in blood-red numerals.