Temporary Duty by Ric Locke

sat in wasn’t original equipment, because it was welded to the deck, and the welds passed over marks where something had been cut away, leaving burns and scars. The back end was smoothly rounded, but the front had a protrusion like the stem of a fruit, and a conduit of different material connected to the stem and disappeared into the deck.
    "Now that," Todd said in a quiet, satisfied voice, "goes with this." And he slapped himself on the chest.
    "Yes, I do believe it does," said Peters, a little amused. "A bit big to carry over your shoulder, though."
    "Hunh," said Todd when that penetrated, a couple of beats later. "Or to fit in a fighter plane. Never mind, they come in different sizes."
    All the engineering staff wore kathir suits patterned in blue and white, but the designs varied. Most were divided in fours, at the waist and vertically down front and back. One Grallt’s suit was divided again, at midchest and knee, giving eight sections. "Officer," said Todd in a soft voice, pointing at this last.
    "Or CPO," Peters agreed. "Senior to the others, anyways. Reckon the Captain looks like a checkerboard?"
    "Probably," said Todd, nodding.
    A Grallt with a four-way design on his suit was prowling the middle level, at one point reaching up to tap on a gauge, then turning around to brace his clipboard against the balcony railing while writing. He regarded his work for a moment, then looked up for some reason. "Oh," he said, and launched into a babble addressed at the "chief" over the railing, pointing at the sailors.
    The Chief–officer? rating?–looked up and saw them also. His face contorted into a scowl, and he strode rapidly across the deck, climbing the ladder with much banging of treads. "Uh-oh," said Todd. Peters grunted, and the two composed themselves as best they could. There was nowhere to run, and no way to hide; more than that, both sailors were fully accustomed to the Navy way of handling such situations: when caught in the wrong, it’s going to be a
lot
worse if they have to chase you down.
    The Grallt reached the top, puffing a little, and pointed a finger, saying something in a sharp accusing tone. Then he froze in place, his eyes going wide, apparently just realizing that his engineering spaces had been invaded by aliens. He lowered his arm, glared suspiciously, and said something disgusted and questioning.
    Peters held up his left arm. «Pleasant greetings,» he said in Grallt, then used his other hand to indicate himself and Todd. "Peters. Todd," he said, pointing. "Human. Earth."
    The engineer relaxed and said something sharp. When Peters shrugged and held palms up–
don’t understand, boss
–he repeated part of it even more sharply and pointed, ending the gesture with a sharp jerk of the hand, upwards. That was clear: Get out! Back where you belong, tourists!
    Peters nodded jerkily, half a bow, and he and Todd backed up a step before turning around. They looked back, once, to find the engineer still standing, leaning on the railing, watching them go. The ladderway hatch was a haven from that unfriendly glare.
    "Whew!" said Todd as they secured it behind them. "I didn’t know if he was going to toss us in the brig or keelhaul us."
    "Or feed us to the monster," Peters suggested.
    "You know, those aren’t original," said Todd in a musing tone. "Just another part of the refit."
    "Yeah." Peters chuckled. "Buy one, or steal it. Save the original packin’ in case of return for warranty service, hey? Install per tech order nine jillion an’ umpty-ump, and ta-da! Better fuel economy and a longer time between overhauls." He grinned and looked at Todd. "Reckon what’d happen if you installed one instead of number-two fuel cell on the carrier?"
    "I was thinking of one of the subs."
    Peters nodded. "Yeah, they’re about half spaceship already anyways." He looked around. "Well, we ain’t gonna be the ones that decide things like that. Tell you what, I’m gettin’ kind of pooped, and it’s about time for