You dive for the emergency compartment beneath the pilot's seat, fingers scrambling against the release latch. The repair kit clatters to the floor, its contents spilling across the tilted deck plating. Grabbing the quantum sealing putty, you immediately begin smearing the glowing blue substance along the core's microfractures. The putty hisses as it makes contact, forming an unstable bond with the damaged plating.

As you work frantically, you're acutely aware of the armored figure looming just outside. Their mechanical arms twitch with unnatural precision, studying your every movement. The visor reflects distorted images of your face - dozens of slightly different versions all overlapping. A chill runs down your spine as you realize this being might be seeing all potential versions of you simultaneously.

The sealing putty begins pulsing erratically, its glow intensifying. The temporal stabilizer in your belt pouch vibrates violently against your hip - a warning that local reality is becoming increasingly unstable. Through the cracked canopy, you notice other figures emerging from the bio-luminescent forest. Their movements are jerky and precise, like clockwork automatons powered by technology you can't comprehend.

Just as you press the final glob of putty into place, your time pod suddenly hums back to life. The control panel flickers weakly, displaying a single viable return trajectory before the numbers dissolve into static. The armored figure outside takes a sudden step forward, their visor flashing with what might be recognition - or hunger.