They stepped out of her TARDIS to a horrific sight. Ten foot tall orange creatures with eight arms (each with seven fingers) and compound eyes were surrounding a heaping pile of people. Dead people with the top of their skulls cut off and no brain in their heads.
"Well," said the Doctor, "That's new."
"Those…aren't Diaglosians."
"Logasmalites, I should think."
"But Logasmal is more than a thousand light-years away!"
"I know."
"I think they've seen us. We should make use of our legs and superior cardiovascular system."
"Something like that. RUN!"
And they ran from the brain-eaters to the least populated part of the city.

They stopped for a breather two miles away.
"I…think…we lost them."
"Doctor? Turn around."
"Oh, hello! Can we help you?"
The green Diaglosian pointed his clawed finger to the Doctor and hissed. "Logasmal…scumfilthverminplague! Iweourme destroyobliviatedecimate!"
"Pronoun issues," muttered Deora.
"Do you mind taking this somewhere else? The people of this planet haven't got their feet on the proverbial ground yet! They're not ready to be the center of a galactic war between your peoples!"
"Uh…Doctor?" And then she vanished.
"Oh, now that's just great. Give me back my companion NOW!"
"Iweourme does not haveholdcapture youryou !"
"Child? That's new."

Aboard the Logasmalite ship, Deora awoke. She was hanging upside-down from the ceiling as her short black hair went straight down. She turned her head to her right and saw her reflection in the window.
"Interesting hairdo. I'll have to try it some time. It would look better blonde, though. Maybe next regeneration. Ooh, why are we on a polar orbit?"
A chillingly deep voice reverberated through the chilly cabin. "Shall we put on some music?" Feathery Wings began to play in the empty room.
"Now that's not fair. How about listening to Brains? That would be more appropriate, I think." And the song changed accordingly.
"Appropriate indeed. How are you feeling?"
"Well, a little cold, and my feet have almost completely lost circulation. Meanwhile I have the headache of the century from all the blood rushing to my head. Other than that, though, I'm quite bored. Listening to music as the sole activity is never my preference. I need something else to do."
"Mathematics? 592 times 234 and square the answer."
"Oh, how droll, though it is a rather original method of prisoner entertainment. 19,190,006,784. An interesting number with all the ones and nines and zeros. But I still prefer the decimal equivalent of one eleventh. That's 0.0909090909, and on to infinity, you know. One ninth is a great number, too. After the decimal it keeps repeating the number one until you pass out from oxygen deprivation. Curious relationship between the decimal of one ninth and one eleventh."
"ENOUGH! I can see your brain is going to be a feast indeed."
"Aw, come on, I thought mathematics was a rather dry subject. I never liked dry meat. That's what wasabi or ranch dressing were for."
"I said enough!"
"Fine."

"What do you mean you don't have her? Where is she?"
"Theyothers haveholdcapture hershe."
"Oh, well that helps a big fat lot. Where is their ship, for crying out loud?"
The Diaglosian pointed. He pointed straight south.
"How far?" He had no transportation.
"Allcompletefully."
"Antarctica? That's just great, just splendid, just FANTASTIC!" He was furious. He had no way to get to aforementioned frozen continent, and he didn't have the money (let alone the time) to rent a cab. If he took her TARDIS, he would be completely unsure of where he was going to end up. If he took his…well, better to not think about it. He kicked a rubbish bin.