Slingshot Run by Jeff Ninnemann

“The greedy ones never last. They always get too close, go too fast, and before they realize it, they’re gone.”
I’ve heard the speech fifty times. Every run it’s the same thing. Looking out the viewport I can see millions of stars. They quickly fade away in the area ahead of the ship. There it’s dark. Dark like you wouldn’t believe. A total void.
“You don’t get second chances sweeping a black hole. Why would anyone slingshot a spaceship around a black hole? Negatronium. Not many people cared about an obscure element that can only be found on the edge of oblivion, that is, until it was also discovered how much energy it can produce.”
Even from this distance, it seems like it can pull the air right out of my lungs. And we’re getting closer at an alarming rate. I can feel the ship begin to shake, it always starts so gently. Soon, it’ll rattle my bones so violently it becomes almost impossible to move or think.
“It sells for about a hundred million per pound. A single run can net a hundred tons. It’s the only thing that can power the star drives that make intergalactic travel possible. Only way to get it is to fly around a black hole and scoop it up.”
I’m trying to tune out the Captain while I cover the checklist while I still can. Gauges all in the green, scoops operational, trajectory steady, crew…batshit crazy. We’re ready for another run.
    “Sweeping is walking a razors edge. You fly too close, the hole pulls you in before you can blink. You fly too far away, all you get is an expensive ride and empty hold. The promise of more money will get people to try and fly just a bit closer. Snap! Gone.”
    I can’t stand looking at that big empty nothing ahead of us. I look back at the stars, they morph from points of light into streaks of light. The shaking is getting worse. My teeth begin to rattle. I move my thumb over the shutdown switch. We’re on the edge of oblivion and I’m about to shut down the nav computer, life-support, everything electrical. This is beyond crazy.
    “You gotta have people though. Machines can’t do it. Once you get close enough to the hole, electronics just don’t work. Have to pilot by hand. Something about an EM field. At least it keeps us in work. You ready?”
    The scoops are opened and the indicator turns red, I hit the shutdown. The ship lets out a short whine and we’re on our own. Captain lets out a laugh and holds us on course. No more stars. Just a darkness that seems to stretch on forever. We’re moving so fast that if I could look back I would see a blur that is us, in our ship. Just light trying to catch up. The shaking begins to ease off. It’s merely unbearable now. The first stars reappear in the viewport.
    The captain’s roaring. “Start us up!”
    I flip the switch back on. With that same whine, the ship comes back online. The stars are streaks again. I close the scoops. Back to the checklist. Gauges still green, trajectory still steady, crew still crazy. The Captain never missed a beat. I report in. “Readings optimal, holds at 40%. Course set. I look at the stars again, willing myself closer. They’re warm, comforting points of light. Forty tons isn’t a bad run. A nice easy trip. After all, no need to get greedy.