Whoa, hold on there, brother! (channeling Hulk Hogan)
If you want realism, let's talk realism. So you *might* want to be a space trucker? Delivering cargo, bringing in profits.
Heh, that's great. Let's add a bank note to that truck. And licensing fees, regulations, weigh stations, a mortgage, a family with starving kids, a deadbeat brother-in-law stuck in the penn with lawyer defense fees you regretfully agreed to help with under coital duress from your wife...
And then, oh, then there's the cut. See, you don't keep the profits, mister trucker. You're paid an hourly wage. All those profits? They go to the corporation! So it's only you, miles and miles of starry black and your CB radio to keep your comfort.
So let's have realism! Everyone can be an employee! Want that space truck in the sky?
Well, it'll cost you... dearly. Because, see, it won't cost a million credits for a Type 6. It'll cost 100 million. And Bounty Hunting... exploring... contracts... you name it... they'll pay 100 credits here, 1000 credits there, no more really. So march your behind down to the closest space bank and sign your name in blood. You've got hauling to do, Sir! You'll be working the grind for the rest of your life and maybe you'll live long enough to pay it off. Maybe. Odds are you won't. But your kids... might. If you can keep up with the life insurance premiums... too.