"Crap! Man down, some sort of hostile thing probably on the loose, and I have bad hearing now!"
"Dr. Arty here, I'm on my way!"
Arty puts a couple of robots in the backpack, readies the weapon and open the door. Keeping an eye out for surprises coming from the corridor, he goes back to the boots room.
Arty checks the vital signs through the monitoring system, and broadcast "Zek is also down, please stand by or bring the wounded here. Did you see any medical supplies?" If he's still alive, look at the vital signs for indications of a pneumothorax or a cardiac tamponade; see if there's anything I can do for him; if not, and Zek isn't completely crushed (as opposed to having just a few broken ribs or a flail chest), try increasing the O2 level in his suit and a cardiac massage - it might be futile, but it still has a chance of working.
Keep the weapon at hand at all times.
You stuff a few robots into your bag and open the door. Smoke floods into the room, and you step out into the hall, waving your hands to try and clear some of the haze. You fumble your way back down the hall. You stub your toe against something and squint to see what it is; it's the upper half of a door, along with most of one of your teammates. His suit seems to have taken the heat of the explosion quite well, but the force of it was something else. One of his legs is gone about halfway up the shin, the other is broken in a few places and he seems to have been knocked out cold. His vital signs are sporadic, probably internal bleeding, maybe lung hemorrhaging.
"Hey… Mycroft… I have an Idea…" Here Trier trailed off and gasped for air. Recovering he continued "It involves you giving me that can of medifoam you have and me not dying. Also, I guess you were right there are a lot of sharp things here." At this he once again trailed off weakly laughing and continued his desperate struggle to breath.
Patch myself up using the medical supplies scattered around the hallway and Mycroft's medifoam if he gives it to me.
You spray some Medifoam into the puncture hole in your arm and the great gash in your chest. It burns, it burns so fucking much. You pound your fist against the ground and scream as best you can with one lung. Eventually, days later if your mental reckoning is correct, it finishes expanding and hardens up. You can't breathe that well, but you can at least suck a breath in without it oozing out through your chest in bloody bubbles. There's no pain killers in the hall, but you bandage up the injuries as best you can with Mycroft's help.