This is a short story, sci-fi broadly if one insists on giving it a genre, but while it does involve travel to a black hole, it is something altogether different.

“Explorer-1, this is Mission Control, do you read?” The radio crackled, the audio was distorted, but clear enough to understand.

“Mission Control, Explorer-1, copy. Nominal prograde orbital insertion. Approximately 1,649,000 kilometres above event horizon. Orbital period approximately 7.4 minutes. Plasma detection confirmed. Ionised hydrogen and helium; rare traces of metals, slightly higher than projected. Magnetic shielding is stable. X-ray detection within safety margin and stable. A small amount of Cerenkov radiation visible through the forward viewport.”

“Explorer-1. Congratulations on the first orbit of Sagittarius A*. You’ve gone down in the history books. Please state current thruster status.”

“Mission Control, Explorer-1, copy. Thrusters are in automatic, orbital maintenance mode, peaking at 67% capacity. Auto-mapping of gravity field has begun. Data is clean.”

“Explorer-1, Mission Control copies. How’s the view?”

“Mission Control, there are no words for this. Most of the sky is just black. Nothing at all. Then everything else is warped, compressed, like looking through a fisheye lens. It’s unlike anything I’ve seen before.”

Sagittarius Explorer 1 was the most ambitious, expensive, and complex scientific project humanity had ever mounted. A full century was needed to execute the mission, and until the day that Explorer-1 arrived, nobody was entirely sure that it would even be possible. Most of the physics were still theoretical when the project started.

The Explorer-1 craft was incredibly sophisticated, and could likely complete the mission without a single human aboard, but the mission had always been not just to explore this super-massive black hole, but to send a person there. It was designed to hold a crew of 5, though a few months before the launch, the crew count was reduced to 1. No announcement was made about why this change was made.

“Mission Control, Explorer-1. Completed 100 orbits. Hull temperature has climbed slightly. Cooling system is stable and within limits. Electrostatic charge in the hull has grown, though is still within limits. Confirmed that plasma is moving at a sub-Keplerian velocity, which is resulting in the higher detection rate. Relative speed between Explorer-1 and plasma field is 0.3 c.”

“Explorer-1, Mission Control copies. All as expected.”

“Mission Control, Explorer-1, copy. Explorer-1 is now in full automatic mode. Stepping away from comms for a break.”

The sole occupant of Explorer-1, Mitch Clark, removed his headset, unbuckled from his seat, and floated out of the cockpit, covered in touchscreens and lights, past the empty seats for the crew that wasn’t included, and into the crew quarters. A room with 5 bunks, though 4 were packed with extra food, a room lined with smooth dark plastic, status display screens, storage compartments, and the small “kitchen” where pre-made meals could be heated and drinks mixed.

He floated to his bunk, moving through the room using the handholds that are placed liberally along the wall. Opening the storage compartment next to his bunk, he pulled out a tablet and unlocked it. He floated, alone, scrolling through a collection of photos.

Around the world, devices lit up with notifications, “BREAKING NEWS: Sagittarius Explorer 1 Is A Success! First human orbits Sagittarius A*”

Pre-recorded interviews with Mitch played, scientists talked about the insights being seen in the stream of data coming from Explorer-1, and politicians congratulated themselves for this incredible achievement.

For Mitch though, this was just the first of many days he would spend here. Neither excited nor anxious, he simply did what he needed to do, with little free time or opportunities to relax. The to-do list had hundreds of items on it, not counting the routine maintenance that would need to be done regularly throughout the mission.

While on the Explorer-1’s mothership, the unimaginatively named Sagittarius Transport Vessel (STV), where the support staff and Mission Control team was based, much of the setup work for Explorer-1 had been completed. One of the most important tasks during transit was setting up Explorer-1’s hydroponics bay – a late addition to the design. The first harvest of spinach and Swiss chard was waiting for the first cutting.

The first task on Mitch’s list was to collect some of the spinach, it would be the first meal onboard the vessel. While the vessel was packed with pre-made meals, those were to be saved. He floated into the bay, confusingly labeled “Engineering 1”, ducking his head to avoid a series of capped pipes near the door, and passed down the neat rows and bright lights, lush green foliage filling each of the dozen individual units that had been packed into the room.

“Explorer-1, this is Mission Control. Good morning Mitch, it’s day 8 on orbit. Task lists D8, DR, W2, and M1 are due today. Be aware, list W2 is expected to take approximately 3 hours to complete.”

“Mission Control, Explorer-1, copy.”

Mitch’s insomnia had him up most of the night, and he had given up trying to sleep hours earlier. Most of those task lists had already been completed.

“Mission Control, Explorer-1. List DR, item 8. Thruster status. We’re currently peaking at 68% capacity to maintain orbit. I keep dipping further into gravity well, and auto-correcting out to re-stabilise orbit.”

“Explorer-1, copy. Please let us know if it exceeds 75%. Maintaining that orbit is a delicate balance, and easily disturbed by the slightest fluctuation.

“Mission Control, Explorer-1, copy.”

With the tasks for the day done, Mitch collected some spinach and Swiss chard for dinner, along with a collection of vitamins, immuno-stimulants, and other boosters to keep his health up. Then back to his bunk, and his tablet.

“Explorer-1, this is Mission Control. Good morning Mitch, it’s day 15 on orbit. Task lists D15, DR, W3, and M2 are due today. Be aware, list W3 is expected to take approximately 2 hours to complete.”

“Mission Control, got it.”

Mitch lingered in his bunk for a few additional minutes before starting his day. With a deep breath, he slid the tablet back into the storage compartment, and retrieved the necklace he wore, a short chain with a bent and twisted ring. He headed to the cockpit.

Lights started flashing. Halfway to the cockpit, red lights were flashing everywhere, alarms blared, and an automated voice started in a loop. “Warning. Thruster system has exceeded 80% of capacity.”

“Mission Control, master warning activated. Thruster status. I’m dipping back into the gravity well, thrusters are currently at 80%.”

“Explorer-1, copied. Redirect power if needed, emergency procedures authorised.”

Mitch strapped into the seat, and maniacally starts tapping screens, changing thruster settings, redirecting power, and activating standby thrusters for additional power. For the next 15 minutes, Mitch works relentlessly to stabilise the vessel before it drops into an inescapable plunge.

“Mission Control, orbit has stabilised, and back at prior altitude. Restoring orbit used a substantial amount of fuel. This places usage about 4 weeks ahead of schedule.”

Six months before the launch, the project director gathered the crew of the mission, the main crew, the backup crew, and two standby members. The 12 people that had been training for almost 10 years for this mission.

“Nearly a century ago, world leaders gathered and created a plan for the most daring scientific mission in human history. For years, you’ve trained for this mission, and each of you knew that there were risks, there were things that we couldn’t guarantee. Missions that make history always come with risks. Well, there are things we’ve confirmed now, and can’t ignore any longer.”

“I need you all to understand that this is likely the most difficult speech I’ve ever had to give. We’ve confirmed that there’s no escaping the gravity well. Once in orbit, there’s no way to generate enough delta-v to reach escape velocity. For years, a team has been working on a new experimental propulsion system, that system was the key to leaving the gravity well. The physics were wrong. It’s not possible to generate the thrust needed.”

“We’re cutting the crew size down to one. We’ve replaced the engine bay with an hydroponics bay to increase the time that the mission can last as long as possible. With only one person, we can pack in additional food, and stretch out the oxygen, and turn what was intended to be 3 months of orbit into years. But, there’s no coming back.”

“We’ve known for about two years that the new engines were a failed effort, and we’ve been trying to find other options. There are none. Politically, there’s pressure to keep this quiet. We couldn’t tell you all before now. World leaders were told, and given time to decide on an approach.”

He cleared his throat, becoming increasingly uncomfortable. Then started speaking again, as if from a well-rehearsed script.

“We’ve come too far to give up, invested and sacrificed too much as a society to walk away from this mission. So I’m here today, to ask one of you to volunteer for this mission, alone.”

Mitch, a standby member, raised his hand.

After the meeting, the 12 talked among themselves, lamenting the failed technology, disappointed at the missed adventure, but more than anything, heartbroken for Mitch. After years of training together, they had all become close, more of a family – a group of brothers and sisters – than just coworkers.

Finally, one had the courage to ask Mitch why.

Mitch paused before he spoke, as if weighing the options of how he would answer, then finally spoke, stoically, “someone had to. Besides, I’ve less to lose. I’ve met your families, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if they lost you.”

“Explorer-1, this is Mission Control. Good morning Mitch, it’s day 99 on orbit. Task lists D9, DR, and M1 are due today.”

Mitch was strapped to his bunk, still in the sleeping position, but was wide awake, looking at his tablet, scrolling through photos. He ignored the transmission from Mission Control.

“Explorer-1, this is Mission Control. Repeating. Good morning Mitch, it’s day 99 on orbit. Task lists D9, DR, and M1 are due today.”

“Mission Control, you all realise that there aren’t any mornings here, right? Just swirling stars and blackness. There’s no point in doing D9 again, it’s all about hydroponics, and everything in there is dead or dying. You all may be filling me with drugs to help protect from the radiation, but those plants weren’t as lucky. I’ve used up all the seeds trying to replace the dead ones, and none are even sprouting. That part of the adventure is over.”

After an unusually long pause, the radio crackled back to life.

“Explorer-1, Mission Control copies. By our calculations, there should be 14 months of pre-made meals. Please state fuel status.”

“Mission Control, fuel won’t last 14 months, so food doesn’t matter. By my calculations, with as frequently as I’m slipping into the gravity well, fuel will be gone in weeks. Maybe less.”

The radio stays silent, minutes pass by. Finally, nearly 30 minutes later, the voice returns.

“Explorer-1, Mission Control copies. Standby for further instructions.”

Mitch took his necklace, wrapping it around his hand, his tablet, and went to the cockpit. He buckled himself to the pilot’s seat, then scrolled through his tablet looking for a particular photo. Using a small magnetic mount, he placed the tablet on a control panel where it can be seen easily.

With a single tap, he disabled the thrusters. He accepted the pull of gravity.