The immediate aftermath is all about getting underway and... heels?

As soon as Luke managed to crawl out of the vac bag, he started barking orders.
“Bari, get us out of here on the double!”
But before he could continue, Aslög and Macha grabbed him.
“We know the drill, and you need medical attention,” they told him in that firm, unmistakable tone. Luke looked like he might argue but quickly thought better of it. Despite his implants and augments, he wasn’t invincible.
“Okay, but Aslög and our new friend need to be checked too. We all breathed vacuum, after all.”
Metzli squared away the airlock with Amaterasu’s help while Macha guided the other three up the ladder to Deck 7. The climb was easy; the ship’s acceleration hadn’t yet hit 1g.

In the softly humming confines of the medbay, Macha tried to pull Luke onto the examination table, but he waved her off.
“Check them first. I’m not bleeding to **** here.”
Grumbling something about stupid male pride, Macha turned to Aslög.
“Scan is clear. No internal bleeding,” Macha announced, and Aslög hopped off the table with a relieved spring in her step.
Pinga seemed **** to lie down, but she couldn’t stop the two taller women from gently but firmly pushing her under the scanner.
“Well, well, well,” Macha muttered with a smirk. “Looks like the harem has a new member. Pinga here is a girl. Quite a few issues—malnutrition, scarring, mild bone density loss—but nothing life-threatening. I want you to come see me once a day until we get this all sorted. But based on the smell?” She wrinkled her nose. “You need a shower more than you need surgery.”

Aslög let out a dry chuckle at the incredulous look on Luke’s face and keyed her comm.
“Ama, meet me in the showers. We’ve got a kitten to bathe.”
The astrogator’s voice crackled through, amused:
“Kitten? Not a puppy?”
“You know our captain,” Aslög replied, grinning. “He can’t help himself. Always saving stray kittens left and right.”
Luke groaned and facepalmed.
“Ignore her, Pinga. She thinks she’s a comedian.”

At that, Macha shooed the other women out of sickbay, insisting she needed to examine Luke “in peace and quiet.”

“Peace and quiet, more like sloppy slurping,” Aslög muttered under her breath as she led the bewildered-looking Pinga to the narrow staircase next to the hull.
“What does that mean?” Pinga asked.
“Oh, just a stupid inside joke,” Aslög said breezily. “Anyway, this is the hygiene deck. The toilets over there can be used anytime, but the showers only work when the engine is on. Otherwise, we’d risk flooding. Same with the bath—though you need a reservation for that. And now that we’re eleven, no hogging, got it?”
Pinga nodded. She couldn’t remember the last time she had a real bath. The last shower had been months ago, before she ever arrived at Asteroid 21.
Aslög pointed to a square plastic container in the corner.
“We recycle as much as possible, but that box is for trash. Sorry, your rags are beyond salvage. Strip naked and toss everything in.”
Pinga swallowed hard, fidgeting with the remains of her clothing.
“Look at me, girl,” Aslög said, taking Pinga’s chin in a firm but not unkind grip.
“Stars only know what filth you’re carrying in those rags. You’re part of the crew now, and you’ve got to act like it. That means no bringing disease vectors on board. Now hustle.”

With hesitant fingers, Pinga began undressing under Aslög’s watchful gaze. Once satisfied that the girl was following orders, Aslög began stripping too—unceremoniously dumping her gear on the floor, though she carefully laid down her weapons. Pinga gave a startled squeak as the tall woman disrobed, instinctively trying to cover her small chest and unkempt crotch.
“Aww, she’s still shy! That won’t last long!” Amaterasu announced cheerfully as she sauntered in.
“What does THAT mean?” Pinga asked, already looking overwhelmed.
“Never mind her,” Aslög said, already starting the nearest shower. “Let’s get you clean.”
Amaterasu just smirked and slowly peeled off her gray blouse, unleashing a bust that her red bustier had heroically been trying to contain. Pinga’s eyes went wide.
“I mean that we live in close quarters,” Amaterasu said in her usual singsong voice, sliding the bustier off. “You’ll see naked women a lot.”
She rolled off her tight black trousers and tossed her tiny thong aside.
“We’ll do laundry after washing.”

What followed was simultaneously the best and most mortifying thing Pinga had ever experienced. The hot water felt luxurious, a true indulgence after months of grime. Watching the dirt melt off her skin was amazing. Being scrubbed head to toe by two breathtakingly gorgeous women? That was another matter entirely. Especially when Amaterasu knelt down, muttered something like “this won’t do at all,” and shaved Pinga’s pits and crotch completely bare. Only then did she notice the others were smooth and hairless from the neck down.
“Good thing we still had razors. Nobody’s needed them in a while,” Amaterasu noted to Aslög, who simply nodded and massaged some lotion into Pinga’s scalp. After the shower shut off, hot air blasted from the walls, drying them in moments. Both Aslög and Amaterasu wrapped towels around their hair with practiced ease.
“Uh... are we just walking around naked?” Pinga asked timidly.
“Naked and hairless,” Amaterasu chirped. “That’s how the Captain prefers us.”
Aslög rolled her eyes.
“It’s not an order. Just a taste we happen to share. Keeps things neat in zero-G, anyway.”
Pinga blinked, overwhelmed, and followed them up the stairs to Deck 4, wobbling slightly as she adjusted to her bare everything.

When the dorm door opened, Pinga was met with a shock of colour and clutter.
“Welcome to the girls’ dorm,” Aslög announced. Inside was a roughly circular room crammed with life. Five bunk beds were mounted to the ship’s central keel, pointing outwards like the tips of a star. The walls were covered in shelves and cupboards. One side of the door held two shotguns and a fire extinguisher; the other, a towering shoe rack stuffed with heels of every style. Makeup mirrors, hair rollers, scattered lingerie, and accessories filled every surface, and the air was heavy with clashing scents of lotions, moisturizers, perfume, and incense.
“Before I unleash Amaterasu on you, a word of warning,” Aslög said. “Don’t touch the weapons until you’ve been trained by me and given permission by the Captain. And while we do share clothes, don’t touch another girl’s makeup without asking. They’ll get real catty.”
“Enough warnings!” Amaterasu said brightly, pulling Pinga deeper into the room. “Let’s get you dressed. Hmm. You’re so skinny! Macha will fatten you up in no time, but for now... how about this?”

She handed Pinga a tiny thong, a light green short-sleeved blouse that still hung loose, and a white tennis skirt. A belt tightened the outfit a bit.
“Not bad! And here, these too,” Amaterasu said, handing her a pair of heeled sandals.
“I’ve never worn heels before,” Pinga admitted, fumbling to get them on.
“Then it’s about time! On this ship, we always wear heels,” Amaterasu declared.
“Obviously, we don’t wear heels during battle stations or in combat,” Aslög interjected. “But whether in 1g or zero-g, heels are fine. In gravity, they make you walk prettier. In zero-g? They’re decorative. Like earrings.”
“What else do you always do?” Pinga asked, wide-eyed, watching Aslög change into a camo miniskirt and snug green singlet, expertly braiding her silver hair.
“Well, we suck dick, lick pussy, and eat ass, of course!” Amaterasu said cheerfully, pulling her own hair into enormous twintails.

Pinga froze. She knew it—this was a sex cult.

“Don’t take her seriously,” Aslög said calmly. “We have a loving relationship with each other and the Captain, but nobody is **** into anything. You earn your place by taking care of the ship, not by taking care of the Captain.”
“But taking care of the Captain is so much fun!” Amaterasu added, slipping a brown tank top over her chest—without a bra. A lacy satin one, each cup the size of Pinga’s head, dangled off the nearest bedpost.
“Anyway,” she continued, “this bunk’s yours. We rotate shifts when we’re underway, so no being loud when others are sleeping. Got it? Now, let’s fix that face. Hair we will have to wait to grow back, but we can at least add some eyeshadow and...”

She was interrupted by Luke’s voice crackling over the intercom.
“All hands meeting in the Captain’s quarters in one hour. Don’t be late.”
Aslög pointed at the door.
“Go with her to get some food before the meeting. I need to prep.”
Amaterasu gave a mock salute.

“Let’s go get some carbs before the Captain gives you your protein,” she said with a perfectly straight face.
“Wait—what kind of protein?” Pinga asked.
Amaterasu just winked.
As the door slid shut behind them, Aslög sighed and rubbed her temples.
“Stars help me,” she muttered.