The Mushkoon(s) is a collective consciousness, however ever since its spatial expansion it hasn't been able to entirely process all the stimulus. Before, it had the outlining of what human psychologists would call an unconscious mental processor, but as with any large techno-sociological paradigm shift it had to develop an entire system of information networks.

These then got ideas of their own before The Central Genus could process or authorise. They developed as their own identities and personages. There are many distinct personalities working in the mind of The Central Genus, one that has never left the cave, one which dominates the home planet surface, five commanding the space fleet, and ten symbiotic diplomats.

The Mushk Republic is one of the greater identities that claim for their own independence and personhood separate form The Central Genus.

The following is not a literal conversation, but depiction of how thoughts were processed by the locus and its dynamics.

'The Doctor is an ally to the tyrant. A Time Lord—those of the Time War! They are the greatest tyrants, they suppress expression and individuality. It is said by the eternal Prospertius they pinned the wings of time, levelled everything into uniformity. Like the Cyberkind.'

This was 'screamed' by Emotional Defence Mechanism Lash, cowering and snarling.

'And yet this is an offer, not a threat,' point out Higher Reasoning Beta.

'No, this is The Doctor, this is a means of socio-psychological manipulation: Politeness,' corrected Higher Reasoning Eta. 'It is a multi-mind tactic using imposed social expectations.'

'Or it is genuine kindness,' chorused Higher Reasoning Delta and Emotional Defence Mechanism Naivety.

'The Doctor is known also a liberator too. The last Time Lord, one who wishes peace,' added Higher Reasoning Delta.

Positive Attitude: 'His companion is human though, they have shown themselves to be allies to us. They are offering us a home.'

'Eta, how do we know this is manipulation and not sincerity?'

'Have we not learned about the complexity of having layers of consciousness? Generously, I will concede that the Doctor may mean a sincere kindness, however, there are definite parts of his decision to us it that rely on its manipulation. It's an imposing para-social toxic gaslighting at it's worst.'

'You really are a fucking nightmare,' said Self-Deprecation, one of the higher orders of thought. It came wry, and resounded like a barrage. Higher Reasoning Eta was dismissed with a reprimand into the Silent Shames, with others unhelpful processes.

'You're all fools for entertaining this!' Emotional Defence Mechanism Lash. 'Picnic! The mockery! Fire everything we have, raid like scavengers we are and must be to survive!'

There was a silence as the exhausted Self-Deprecation mustered the energy to retort and dismiss Lash, but Beta spoke over them:

'Raise shield and phase-step, they are Cheem and might have access to laser weaponry. Ready the weapons too, third capacity charge, but have asteroid de-constructors to first capacity. Keep communication frequencies open. Disregard the tyrant Doctor and his slave.'

It was so.

Then there was a reshuffling of the psychic parliament as the question was then posed: 'Should we save the human slave as good politic with those willing to keep us safe?'

The Doctor could no longer see the ships in great detail, the sun had bleached them out mostly, whereas Clara—or indeed any human—could only see the faint outline. Clara tried to think of the space stations in orbit rather than invasions. She tried not to think of Daleks or the raining fire of a ship being blown up in orbit.

Clara turned the page on the Vogue, it still smelled vaguely of being fresh from the printer.

'Have they said anything yet?' she asked, knowing the Doctor could hear the worry in her voice, but preferred he didn't see it in her face.

'No,' came a growl from the other side of the console.

'Should we send another signal? Maybe point out starting a conflict is not good for refugee societies, especially with a human who might get caught in the cross fire?'

'Are you sure you're reading Vogue?' The Doctor appeared from behind the console.

'Yes.' Clara was hiding her face a little, very focused on the block of text and not looking at the Doctor. She could be cool in the face of dangers, like him.

'I think pointing that out might be a bit much. I don't want to come across as pompous. I want to suggest peace, not threaten it.'

'I guess, but you deal with stupid humans all the time. You have no trouble having a guiding hand there. Sometimes kids need a little reminder about who's in charge.'

'Teaching really turned you into a monster didn't it? These are outcasts running from societies that hurt them.'

'Yeah, but you can't just let someone hurt someone else just because they're afraid. Cornered animals bite. Move them from the corner.'

'I am sure that sounded wiser in your head.'

'It did.'

'If they go—oh never mind Clara, you're right.'

'As always.' She raised herself from the reclined position and skipped to the console. 'Locking on to the leaders, bypassing security and shielding to teleport them down here.'

'Was that an order or are you narrating?' asked the Doctor, having had the teleport locked and ready on the Cheem. It was more difficult with the Mushkoons.

'An order. I'm trying to—I swear she still hates me. I'm trying to use future history to see which Mushkoon aspect can be detached.'

The Doctor tutted and began to help her without the use of the screen. Being a Time Lord he could understand which paths to take navigating time. He engaged the TARDIS in temporal flight, the rasping and fading commenced. They were going to drift into the future, like taking off the hand brake on a slope. While in temporal movement the vortex opened and so did the possibilities. He helped Clara through without a word, she knew he was helping by the end, but there was a brief moment where she thought she was doing it herself.

She reminded herself he was not patronising her and just because they were both smart didn't mean she had to win, that accepting help wasn't losing.

Clara found an aspect of the Muskoon Republic and focused the teleport on them.

An alert filled the screen.

'Doctor, they've engaged their weapons!' Something sparked and Clara shrieked. 'They're at battle stations.'

The Doctor swore and the TARDIS refused to translate it.

'Never mind that, teleport them now!'

Above the ships waited waited for battle to commence. The energy glowed in the cannon of the Járnviðr, the laser torpedoes were loaded into position, the shields were raised. Dawning Victory gathered kinetic energy from all around it, the forward point of the spheroid crackled with energy. The circling pods moved to this point and spun so the energy gathered faster, readied to fire like a pulse and rip the Járnviðr to pieces.