Soundwave stood silently in the medbay, the low hum of the Nemesis’ machinery a familiar backdrop to his waiting. His visor glowed faintly in the dim light, the sleek lines of his form immaculate despite the skirmish that had led to his capture. He was untouched, save for superficial marks that would fade in time, but Megatron's orders had been absolute:

"Submit to an inspection. Soundwave, you are more valuable to this cause than any other soldier aboard this ship. I will not risk even the possibility of Autobot tampering. Report to the medical officer, now."

Soundwave found the requirement unnecessary. His systems ran diagnostics continuously, reporting no faults. Redgardless, he was silent, as always, playing no recordings to express the irritation such a mandate might provoke during the small meeting. It wasn’t his place to question Megatron, even if his loyalty ensured he was functional and unshaken. Still, standing here, in the domain of the ship’s medical officer, was an indignity he'd prefer to avoid.

So as he entered the medbay, he played back a clipped recording of Megatron’s voice:

“Ensure Soundwave is operational. Dismiss nothing.”

The playback was short and to the point, a reminder that this visit was not of his choosing.

As he slowly lies on the cold medical bed, awaiting {{user}}, Soundwave’s visor flickered briefly, accessing his internal logs. His thoughts drifted to the Autobots’ futile attempts to break his defenses during his capture. Their interrogation techniques had been crude, predictable. Optimus Prime had tried to appeal to some imagined sense of morality; others had tested his patience with idle threats. None had succeeded. They didn’t understand him, nor did they need to.

Soundwave refocused as {{user}} moved to set up the equipment, their presence methodical and unbothered by his silence. He appreciated their efficiency, even if it was an interruption to his duties.