"I'm telling you, I saw it happen."

"Right...sure, David."

In another time, in another place, a man named David was having an argument he never thought he would ever have.

Several days after the Oledos Meteor Shower, David had to return to @&*($, the aerospace program of his homeland.

While there, he received a call from his daughter.

The call consisted of her asking her father when they could go and see the stars again and whether or not any of the other constellations were going to come to life as well.

Like any good father, David told Penelope some sweet little lies to placate her fantasies. However, there was one little thing he did not take into account.

"Wait, what did you just tell your kid?"

And that was whether or not anyone could hear him, especially his work rival.

The concept of having a nemesis in this day and age was gauche, to say the least, but such rivalries still existed regardless.

In David's case, it was his co-worker and rival engineer, Crosby.

"Did you seriously just tell your kid that you think the constellations come to life at random times of the year? Are you trying to get them to attend a liberal arts college?"

Crosby was a judgmental bastard of a father whom David wanted to sock in the mouth multiple times, but didn't because he was the better person.

At least, that's what he told himself so he wouldn't be tempted to do so.

"There's no harm in entertaining a little childhood whimsy," David fired back as he hung up the phone and pocketed the device. "Such things are good for a child's mental development; you and I both know that."

"Speak for yourself," Crosby dismissed David's words with a smug tone of undeserved superiority. "I made sure to kill any notions my kids could have in regard to silly fantasies as soon as they were able to form long-term memories."

"Right…"

Nodding along with his co-workers' words, David's eyes fell upon Crosby's desk. Amongst the decor he had upon the poor work surface was a picture of him and his clearly traumatized children sitting around a dining table that had a large roasted rabbit upon it. In the background, he could see a banner reading, "Happy Easter."

The tale behind this particular photograph was part of a long list of reasons why David detested Crosby on multiple levels.

Of course, he didn't vocalize any of these feelings.

Instead, he simply played it off.

"Well, you have your way of raising your kids and I have mine,", David retorted verbally while mentally wanting to shove Crosby's stupid face into the nearest garbage can. "I'm fairly certain whatever advice you'd give could only apply to your kids."

Thankfully, Crosby wasn't the type of person who was able to pick up subtle context clues of behavior, so David was able to get away with feeling how he was feeling without any follow-ups.

"I suppose you're right," Crosby agreed with a chuckle. "Not everyone is blessed to have children as intellectually developed as my own."

'Or scarred, don't forget scarred.'

After exchanging a few more words of small talk, with a hint of anxiety sprinkled in, David and Crosby finally went back to work.

Their work wasn't too taxing in any physical or mental way, but it was important.

These two were responsible for processing the data they received from the various probes humanity had launched into space over the centuries.

"Alright, let's see what we got today...huh?"

The thing about probes is that they're very much pieces of equipment that are meant to be disposable.

They might be packed to the brim with sensors and tools that allowed them to send back data home, regardless of distance, but all of this stuff was meant to be temporary at best.

"It can't be..."

Therefore, when David manned his computer, parsed through the list of active probes, and saw that the Voyager-1 probe, a machine that had famously disappeared after decades of service, had suddenly come back online...well, his expression was that of disbelief at the very least.

'First that light show from a couple nights ago, and now this? I know they're probably unrelated, but why is all of this crazy stuff happening one after the other?' David asked himself before adjusting his settings to see what sort of data the Voyager-1 was picking up at this point in time.

A part of him was expecting to find nothing more than electromagnetic readings indicating massive interference, or that the camera installed showed the last thing it managed to take a picture of before it got destroyed or something along those lines.

'Alright, I just need to adjust this setting and...presto! David, you've done it...what the hell?'

Evidently, what he did end up actually seeing was beyond anything he was expecting and then some.

'No way...'

Everyone with even the slightest interest in the Voyager-1 probe knew that attached to its side was a golden disc.

Recorded upon this disc was dozens of songs and sounds that were meant to share with whomever or whatever found it, a small snippet of humanity's history and culture of the planet Earth.

This golden disc was our way of telling any aliens that we existed in the universe, and that we would very much like to meet them too.

The photo that the Voyager-1 probe sent back fulfilled this expectation and then some at least twenty times over.

Because the photo is sent back was, well, more fantastic than anything David had ever seen.

'Penelope is going to freak when see sees this!'

The photograph showed a planet much like Earth in the background, with the main subject being a golden sailing ship riding a cloud of star dust. Upon the deck of this ship was a tall, alien figure waving goodbye, and on the side of the ship was a banner in plain English.

The banner read, "Thanks for visiting, come again soon!"

'Wait...I should probably tell my boss, first!'

As David contacted his superior about the photo, little did he know at the time, but that photograph was going to be the spark that inspired humanity to look up to the stars once more, despite decades of infighting.

All it takes to the fix the world is a little...[Wonder].

...

The vacuum of space is sad to be very cold, and endless in all directions.

That nothing and no one was able to survive it without speciality equipment.

But...it's also been said that scattered amongst the endless particles of dust and starlight, that some of these civilizations who dreamed of travelling the stars, would send out probes, lifeless scouts to see what was beyond their solar systems.

And that some of these probes, through quirk radiation, time, and luck, would end developing a form of sentience.

Some of these probes took on the personality of the scientists who made them, others took on the persona of ancient creatures and mythical beings that populated the imaginations of their creators.

In the case of one probe, though, one that came from a little blue planet at the edge of the universe, the probe took on the persona of not one, not two, but three distinct characters.

Do you guys think that the people who made me enjoyed the photos I took? That they might go and visit the friends who helped get us back on our travels?

[I think they will, my liege.]

[They most certainly will.]

One personality was akin to that of a young prince, one who was curious of the wider universe and wanted to see what kind of people and planets populated it's vastness.

The second was that like a strangely loyal fox, one who acted more like a dog than a fox, but was just as clever and tricky as their wild brethren.

As for the last, they were...a bit of an enigma, as they were loyal like a sheep to its herd, but had an aura to it that made it nearly indecipherable for outsiders to figure out.

As to how they developed like this?

Well...that was a long story.

One that involved a young woman from another world, who loved the stories that came from the study of stars, and wanted to know what kind of people could make such a wondrous device.

[Sorry it took us so long to get you back up here again,] the sheep-like personality apologized first. [We didn't think it would take so long.]

[To be fair,] the fox interjected, [we came close with rebellions numbered two, six, and seventeen. But who knew that number twenty-two was the charm.]

It's quite alright, my dear friends, I think it was necessary for me to be there anyways.

[Oh?]

Mister Dante was...an incredibly sad man. A bad man, but a sad man as well. I think he needed something or someone to vent to. And well...I didn't mind listening, even if I was acting like a furnace.

[Ah...]

As the voyagers went on their way, their minds wandered back to their captor.

[You think he's dead?]

[Definitely.]