Mortals are experts in invention. As evidenced by their ascent to the stars, the complexity of their starships, sun-cores, and mantle-mail suits, mortals have a talent for creation and innovation. 

Regarding their basest comforts, faith and spirituality have always remained highly important, seeking warmth and guidance in the empty space of cathedrals and cloudless nights - so to comfort themselves, they invented Gods who sleep in mountains, or who shepherd the dead so they won't be quite so alone when they die. Maybe that's why very early on into the space age, common folk began to associate the act of interstellar travel with piety and reverence until it was an all-out holy endeavour: the act of breaking atmosphere with fingers gripped white-knuckled around the control wheel, pressing the throttle forward until the propulsion jets scream supersonically in their own symphony, the rattling turbulence giving way to the impossible serenity of open space. 

Those who experience it feel it somewhere deep in their chest, whispered by their ears, the sacredness of leaving the atmosphere's safety to dive headlong into the stars. Those with less reverie call that 'cabin pressure,' but what the hell do they know anyway?

The majority of denizens within the Galactic Webbing consider space faring to be sacred (even if it is more spirituality than it is religion) and as such, four-pointed stars have become a religious symbol on par with that of the trident.