"Ach! Will yez no' jes' go an' stick yer haid in a ship, Daft Wullie, before I go an' stick it there fer yeh?" Rob Anybody grumbled, peering around the corner and into the Valiant's control room with a thunderous look on his tiny blue face. A mouse's skull perched jauntily atop his head to serve as a helmet.
"Ah'm sorry, Rob, but yeh ken well what I get like when there's someone tryin' to bring aboot the end o' the world. Ah canna help it!" Wullie protested, folding his tiny blue arms sullenly.
"Wheesht!!" Rob hissed, drawing back into the shdows as footsteps approached the Feegles' hiding place. "Stop yer yammerin' yeh scunners!" The footsteps paused and the Feegles held their collective breaths, but after a moment the guard kept on with his rounds.
"Richt enough, Rob," Awf'ly Wee Jimmy agreed, stepping forward. "Noo, what say yez scunners git oot there an' show them aliens some haid, richt?"
There was a roar of agreement from the massed Feegles, followed by a glare from Rob and some much quieter and more embarassed cheers.
"Shut it! Noo, remember, if in doubt, nut 'em. Use yer haids, lads!" Rob yelled, and with a single cry the Feegles poured through the doorway, towards the Master and his captives.
"NAE KING! NAE QUIN! NAE MASTER! WE WILLNA' BE FOOLED AGAIN!"
A tide of blue and ginger pictsies flooded the observation deck, swamping the guards and covering them in tiny blue men that bit, kicked and punched a lot harder than anyone that small had any right to.
The Master tripped backwards, falling backwards to the floor. His face contorted in fury. "Toclafane!" he yelled. "Attack!"
Three buzzing spheres appeared, hovering in the air. "Oooh, new friends!" trilled one.
"Lets kill them!" chirped another, and their blades slid out with a schick. Rob rolled his shoulders, grinning. "C'mon, boys! Get 'em!" with a yell the feegles threw themselves at the aliens. In a few moments there was nothing left but a pile of metal shards and smouldering circuits. Rob spat onto it and sauntered over to the Master.
"You'll regret this, you pathetic, puny--"
Rob nutted him. The timelord blinked, then toppled over backwards with a groan' "Ach, shut up, yeh scunner," he told the recumbent timelord. Silence reigned and the pictsies turned to look at the Jones family.
"...Who are you?" the mother asked them warily.
Rob bowed. "We're the Nac Mac Feegle. We're fighters."
"An' ship' stealers!"
"An' coobeastie thieves!"
"Nae King! Nae Quin! Nae--"
Rob coughed. "Anyway, yer daughter asked us t' help oot. An'if that's all then we'll be goin' noo. The big wee hag's expectin' us back soon." he tipped his skull/hat/helmet to them, stuck out his foot, waggled it and disappeared. The rest o the Clan followed suit, and soon the valiant's control room was empty.
Eventually Tish broke the silence. "Well, that was weird. Martha has some really strange friends."
 Which looked distinctly more cheerful than a memento mori of at hat had any right to be. But then, that's skulls for you: always grinning.
 More precisely, 1 roar made up of about 150 different cries along the lines of "spam, spam, spam an' spam!", "Oranges and turkeys? Never!", "Billy-billy-billy-bong!" and "Buggrit, millenium hand and shrimp!"
 Somethings just have to be there in every universe.