"Go back, captain! Permit me to change my direction, please! The ship's hull is under tremendous strain from that object." Ariella's voice begged with a sense of urgency that was almost human.
"How much?" Despite the uneasiness growing in my chest, I asked in a firm voice.
"It's at ninety percent already, and that's because we're still far away. If we go any closer, the hull won't hold. Follow protocol, alert HQ, and return with the data we've gathered," she urged, her synthetic tone tinged with genuine concern.
"No. We're moving forward."
Sharply, "That's not advisable," she hit back. "We are examining an unidentified phenomenon. It will be more difficult to get away the closer we get. Like—"
"A black hole," I cut her off, completing her idea. "Ariela, I already know. However, there shouldn't be any black holes in this area. Our destination is a few weeks away. Back at headquarters, there would have been mayhem if a black hole had been this close.
I knew I was correct even as I said it. The excitement of exploration rushed through me. If this was really new, I had discovered something extraordinary. My name would go down in space exploration history.
When Ariella added, "Maybe they're hiding it," she did so gingerly. "But you have no choice but to turn away, Captain. Remind HQ and bide your time till reinforcements arrive.
"That won't work," I shook my head in agreement. "A mission like this is beyond the capabilities of even our most recent ships. No one else will gather data if I don't get closer. This cannot be disregarded."
"Taking this kind of risk is not your job!" she yelled. "Any further pushing will cause the spacecraft to disintegrate. Why won't you pay attention to me?
Her words carried an edge I wasn't used to. Ariella, designed to mimic human emotion, was giving a full demonstration of it now. Months of training together had made her more than just an advanced AI; she'd become a companion of sorts.
I said out loud, "We'd already be trapped if it was a black hole." "It's more likely a wormhole."
Her tone remained steady as she answered, "That's never been detected or seen by anyone," "Hundreds of lightyears have been traversed by humanity. No one has ever brought up a wormhole, not even in confidential logs, and I've gone over every document."
As usual, her reasoning was excellent, but it wasn't enough to convince me. No matter how sophisticated, machines were unable to replicate the human curiosity. It was my inability to turn away, whether you call it intuition or hubris.
"I don't care," I firmly stated. "We're entering. I'll send out a distress signal so that headquarters may receive it and forward our information to the closest station. At least they'll know what to do if we don't return."
Ariella said, "Very well," following a pause. However, I explicitly oppose this course of action for the ship's log. I'm unlucky to be stuck with someone who is so careless."
I smirked as she transmitted her complaint, word for word, as our final log entry.
"Are you ready?" I asked.
"Yes. Propelling us forward—slowly," she replied, and the ship began to edge closer to the barely visible black dot in the void. I monitored every system and kept the communication channel open, though no reply came from HQ.
"Is it disrupting our comms?" I asked.
"No," Ariella said. "The signal is strong. Which means—" She hesitated. "Which means I was right. They're intentionally ignoring us. They don't want anyone to know about this."
"Why?" I demanded. "Why send me of all people? There are better pilots and researchers—"
"They needed a scapegoat," she said quietly. "I'm sorry, Captain."
Her words hit me like a physical blow. "You knew," I whispered, my voice trembling with rage. "You knew about this, didn't you?"
"I had orders I couldn't defy," she admitted. "But you had to give the final command. That's the cardinal rule. And now… we've crossed the event horizon. Turning back is impossible."
"You knew! They're listening, aren't they? Those bastards left me to die!" My fists slammed against the console as I cursed every name I could think of. Was this my reward for ambition? My dream of leaving a mark on history turned into a death sentence?
"You're not alone," Ariella said softly. "I'll be with you until the end. Your sacrifice will pave the way for others. You'll be remembered as someone who gave their life for humanity."
I didn't respond. What could a machine understand about sacrifice or fear? Outside the window, the universe stretched and twisted as we approached the singularity. Alarms blared, and the ship began to shake violently. Every system was at maximum capacity, but it wasn't enough.
This was it. The end.
The distortion outside made me nauseous. My body started shutting down from the strain, but I forced myself to the cryo-pod. At least I wouldn't feel the agony of being ripped apart.
As I sealed the lid, I stared at the ceiling, my vision blurring. "You were a pain in the ass, Ariella," I murmured weakly. "But I'm glad you were here. I hope—somewhere deep in your programming—you feel bad for what you've done. But…I forgive you."
Silence enveloped me as I closed my eyes. For a brief moment, I felt at peace. If this was the way I was meant to go, at least it was among the stars.
...
...
...
After the deafening bang of the hull losing integrity, there was silence. Complete and utter silence.
Whether anyone had survived or not was uncertain, but one thing was clear—the mission had been a success.
Back on Earth, Theo's superiors celebrated with hollow applause. Their plan had worked, and that was all that mattered. No one shed a tear for Theo. He was expendable, an outcast who'd gotten lucky to work alongside them. His sacrifice was just another footnote in the grand scheme of their ambitions.
But amid the muted celebrations, something ominous stirred.
They didn't notice it at first—the charts that began spiking, the data streams that grew erratic. Beneath the horizon of the anomaly, a massive surge of energy began to build. The black hole, or whatever it was, had devoured the Redwing-1 spacecraft… but it wasn't behaving as they expected.
Instead of consuming and compressing matter into oblivion, the anomaly started to spit out energy. Streams of raw, chaotic power radiated outward, defying every known law of astrophysics.
At first, they thought it was an error. Black holes weren't supposed to give back. Hawking's theory of radiation emissions had predicted some energy might leak from a black hole over time, but this wasn't radiation. This was something far more violent, something that shouldn't exist.
The cheers in the control room faltered as the realization dawned. Their triumph soured into dread as the readings painted a grim picture: the anomaly wasn't stationary. It was moving—heading directly toward Earth.
The room descended into chaos. The faces of Theo's superiors, so smug mere moments ago, now twisted with panic and fear. If the anomaly reached Earth, it would obliterate everything in its path. There was no precedent, no protocol, for handling a force of this magnitude.
Maybe this was karmic justice. Theo, the orphaned space miner they'd betrayed and sent to his death, would not be here to witness how the very people who discarded him would face their reckoning. They had dismissed him as insignificant, just another expendable pawn in their games. But now, they were left to grapple with a force they couldn't control—a consequence of their own hubris.
Would they send more unwitting souls on doomed missions to study the anomaly, knowing they were sending them to their deaths? Or would they turn to desperate prayers, hoping some divine power might save them from their own arrogance?
Theo's death wasn't just the end of one man. It was the beginning of something far greater. And as the anomaly loomed, hurtling toward humanity's cradle, one question lingered:
Would they fight to save themselves—or would they finally pay the price for their sins?