Fury closed his eyes as the teleportation wave overtook him, and suddenly he was aboard the ship.
But not the ship he expected. 

Apparently, the Capitol had arrived some time during his mission, Freedom had likely been transported to its more secure holds, and the corvette had taken its leave. The Fireen found himself in a narrow room which decontaminated and released him after only a moment, allowing him to walk into a visiting hall where some of the Angar-Rylla was awaiting him. No doubt he made quite a sight in his scorched and broken armour, which he relinquished with some help. By this point, his right arm was completely red with blood, so first-aid officials applied a kind of sealant paste, aiding his recovery, and cleaned up his wounds. He remained completely silent throughout, concentrating on not draining the life energy of everyone around him; he was unpleasant enough as it was.

Donning some course cloth clothes and heavy boots to traverse the ship, the Fireen once known as Manadar decided it was only right to answer the summons of the commander who had teleported him. He had met with Khazna briefly before, though he couldn’t claim to be very familiar with him, frankly however he didn’t really care about any of them regardless, so long as they brought him closer to his goal.

The skeletal face surrounded by fire, a reoccurring vision. 

Predictably, when Fury reached Khazna in the command room he was as blunt as ever.

“Khazna, what do you want?” He asked.