As the blinding white light subsides, your vision swims back into focus. The time machine lies half-buried in soft earth, its once-polished brass exterior now scorched and dented. Through the cracked glass dome, you see towering ferns swaying in an alien breeze. The survival kit's metal latch digs into your palm as you pull it from under the seat, its familiar weight offering a sliver of comfort amidst the chaos.

You pop open the kit with practiced ease. Inside lies a compact water purifier, protein rations wrapped in wax paper, a first aid pouch with a red cross stitched onto its canvas, and - most importantly - the emergency beacon. Your fingers trace the beacon's smooth surface before you tuck it into your jumpsuit's breast pocket. The faint smell of antiseptic from the medical supplies mixes with the rich, earthy aroma pouring in through the dome's fractures.

A sudden screech echoes through the jungle, sending a flock of iridescent birds exploding from the canopy. Your head snaps toward the sound as something massive moves through the undergrowth. The survival kit's flare gun feels heavy in your hands as you load it with shaking fingers. The machine's power core sputters weakly behind you, casting flickering shadows that make the jungle seem to breathe around the crash site.