We’ve used up all our Delta-v. The orbit doesn’t seem to have grown measurably larger. We can’t see the point mass, but the math all checks out and the radiation is hammering our shields.
It’s odd: I don’t feel any different. A few hundred kilometers away, the universe is aging precipitously without us. I’d worry what it’ll look like when we escape, but we’ll never escape.
Dr. Franks thinks the heat death of the universe will occur in about a week, ship’s time. That is, unless something falling into the gravity well swats us like a fly in the meantime.