Five souls were aboard, protected by layers and layers of advanced active and passive shielding. The life supports systems labored to keep them alive and comfortable, which they did with scant margin. But they worked as designed, and the mission continued smoothly.
Carson rummaged through the spare parts locker, looking for just the right part. A pipe fitting caught his attention, and he decided it would do the trick, hefting it in his hand. It was heavy enough, and two feet was a manageable length. The two-inch diameter made a comfortable grip.
He exited the locker, making sure it was secured, and followed the short corridor up to the control room. The only person there was the pilot; the other scientists were monitoring the sensor equipment in the other bays.
"Hey, Carson. How're things going down there?"
"What brings you up here?"
"Just needed to stretch my legs."
"Ah, yeah. Can't blame you."
The pilot turned back to scanning his controls. He didn't make a sound as the pipe connected with the back of his skull, the straps holding him in his chair.
"What are you doing?" came a shout from behind him.
It was Simmons. No time. Carson looked for the control, found it, lunged.
Simmons tried to tackle him. He failed, but altered Carson's trajectory, and they both crashed into another panel. Alarms started going off, lights started flashing. Carson fought off Simmons, then slammed the conrol. "Confirm?" flashed on the panel, and it started beeping. Simmons got an arm around his leg. Carson kicked him, and stomped on his hand. Simmons screamed.
"Confirm!" yelled Carson, and he hit the control again.
A shock went through the ship as its magnetic field collapsed. Foam filled every compartment in milliseconds.
Safe, thought Carson as he blacked out from the shock.
[ Word (snap) suggested by undeadprincess. ]