He had expected Farvis to stand up and recover rather quickly; the man was a doctor, albeit not a very honest one, but a doctor nonetheless.  He nodded as the doors to the innards of the ship slowly slid open after Marga's fiddling. Progress. Finally.

"Marga rescued you, Farvis. And as to the medical bay, unless someone has a detailed map of the ship interior, I don't we'll find it that -"

Suddenly he was interrupted by the pings and cracks of laser fire from down the hall, and as he ducked out of the way he saw that the fire came from two ceiling mounted turrets that swiveled and tracked their movements with frightening accuracy. Obviously these things were a threat that needed to be taken care of, but he was too busy trying not to get shot to solve that problem. As he dove for cover he spotted Marga and Farvis, frozen in the hallway. He knew that the augmented human could dive to safety quick enough, but Marga wasn't that fast. She took a spatter of laser fire across her abdomen, scorching her suit and whatever armour she wore as she fell. He heard her swear multiple times ([b]"FUCKING SHIT FUCK OW BLOODY FUCKING <alien swear words> OW"[/b]) as she hit the floor, while their Syndari teammate took cover behind her drone and blasted her way forward. Simon sighed and reached out, grasping Marga by the wrist as he pulled her out of the line of fire and into the relative safety of the bay. Once done, he assessed her just like he did with Farvis.

He guessed that the lasers the ceiling turrets were packing weren't strong to completely incinerate whatever they hit, but lasers were lasers; they were hot and they hurt like a bitch. That's what he needed to treat first, and another tube of medigel was all he needed. With Farvis recovering quickly enough from his injuries, he'd still had half a tube left over, so he used that tube and squeezed the rest of it all over her burned stomach and sides, using his gloves to liberally spread the cooling, numbing gel all over the burns. The regenerative agents within the gel would act quickly, sealing wounds, healing her inner flesh and regenerating the outer layers of skin, and though they wouldn't heal whatever cosmetic damage she'd sustained to her suit, she was healthy. He capped the empty tube and slid it back into his rear rigging for refilling later, so now he focused on the turrets. Those things were dual-barreled security turrets, rapid fire laser guns that were more for area denial than anything else. He cursed under his breath, flipped his faceplate down and deactivated the safety of his battle rifle. He felt its computers whirr its internal machinery into life, powering up the huge, magnetic rails and tines that made up its assembly. With fire still spattering the front of that hallway, Simon had barely any space to reach around the wall, but so he did, and he aimed his rifle at the relative area where one of the turrets was and pulled the trigger several times. Slugs of molten metal screamed their way towards his target, punching through whatever armour the turrets had as they buried themselves in the machinery and circuitry, frying and searing whatever they touched before they rapidly cooled, sealing themselves inside their holes, preventing any repair.