No. They rob you and leave.

Silence follows your words for a few more moments, before the old man speaks up again, his tone deadly serious and quiet.

"I don't have no time left for ungrateful cunts. You're lucky I let you live after threatening my boy like that. Now shut it, or I might reconsider my offer."

A quiet zipper in the background indicates his son has finished with you. Feeling metal hands on your bare skin, the old man pats you up and down while you fume in silent rage, taking the opportunity to feel far more of you than you're comfortable with in the process. Eventually, he comes away with your pistol and your comm chip, pocketing both before he hoists your underwear and leggings back into place, covering you up. You can feel the disgusting seed in you start leaking into the fabric, making you shudder. You can hear him smile while he talks.

"Now, if he's gone and knocked you up, don't make it our problem. I'd hate to have to use this fancy firearm you got on the mother of my grandkids."

He finishes with a slap on your ass, causing you to clench your fists again.

They eventually leave, searching the wreckage for several more minutes before making a wordless exit. You continue trying to wriggle your way free from the damaged shuttle. It takes hours, but you manage to work your way out, crashing backwards onto the ground, sucking in full breaths once more. With some effort over another ten minutes, you manage to tear the magnetic clamps from your ankles, sending the torn halves clattering aside.

You've been crushed, ****, robbed, and the whole reason you came to this place has been stolen, but you're alive. And even without your gun, you're still as deadly as ever.