As the team's first responders piled into the narrow doorway of the medbay, guns trained, the Turian stranger attempted to lower his sillohuette to no avail. The M.D's head was roughly at his chest level, and he was pretty wide open if his reflexes weren't taken into account.

Which is why he leaned quite far back when the Batarian's hand flashed with the strange purple light of a biotic. An energy tentacle lashed out at him, forcing his mind into overdrive as he calculated its trajectory, approximated its target and juggled a few scenarios in his head as to where this situation can advance to.

What happened a split second later was the energy lash twisting around the Turian's wicked-looking blade. As it pulled, he stabbed it downwards, jamming it into the table. Sparks flew as it scraped the smooth coated metal until coming to a halt in a groove it cut, where Protus pretended to lose grip on it.

"Hah!" He withdrew his hand, as if stung by the biotic power. He slowly raised it, along with his other one, still standing behind the table and the doctor. "Well, looks like you got me, brave heroes. Well done. The drill is over. Summon your captain please."