# đź“– *Ben 10: The Lost Years*
**Episode 6 – Baptism by Stars **
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### **POV: Ben — Exit from Earth**
The world of lockers and cafeteria tray‑balls was already fading. Bellwood's night sky stretched overhead, quiet except for crickets.
Ben ducked into the junkyard outside town, slipping past rusty heaps until he found the hunk of scrap metal they called transportation: Argit's shuttle. It looked like three lawnmowers crashed into a trailer and someone glued fins on the end.
The hatch squealed open. Inside, Argit was pacing — ears twitching, tail snapping.
"You're late," Argit accused.
"Had to throw dodgeballs at Gary before saving the galaxy again." Ben shrugged. "Priorities."
Argit moaned. "You're going to get us both killed."
"Probably," Ben said with that crooked smirk. "Let's fly."
The shuttle rattled, sputtered, and somehow lurched free of Earth's pull. Stars bloomed ahead. Ben leaned on the viewport.
Back to the life only he knew.
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### **POV: Colony Child — Ryn**
Ryn's stomach growled.
The water trough was bone‑dry again, and the town's crops — stunted gray stalks — sagged toward dust. Their elders prayed to machines they didn't know how to repair.
He kicked a rock and frowned toward the horizon.
And then, fire streaked down from the sky. A pod. Smoke trailing. It gouged into dirt with a thunderclap just beyond the ridge.
Ryn gasped, eyes wide. "An omen," he whispered.
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### **POV: Ben — Crash Landing**
"Honestly," Ben groaned, peeling his forehead off the shuttle controls, "any landing you can crawl away from counts as nailed."
Argit dangled upside down in his harness, tail twitching. "We're dead—we're definitely dead—the Syndicate sabotaged our nav—"
"Relax," Ben said, climbing the hatch. Orange horizons shimmered outside. A settlement clung like a bruise at the canyon edge.
He squinted. Fields dying. Structures collapsing. People too thin. Raiders easy pickings.
Argit saw it too and hissed, "Oh no. Nope. We are *not* playing hero again. You've already ticked off Skrall, the Syndicate, the entire crucible of bounty hunters—"
Ben cut him off with a grin. "I see problems. Means solutions."
Argit slapped his forehead. "You're allergic to safety."
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### **POV: Elder Sal — The Strangers Arrive**
Sal's joints ached as he hobbled with staff down the dusty road. In his settlement, hunger had become habitual. Hope long fled.
Now he saw them: a strange pair walking from a smoldering shuttle.
One was furred — twitchy, jittering, desperate. The other… a human child. Thin, but with strange fire in his eyes. Too calm for what surrounded them.
"Travelers?" Sal rasped. "Or raiders?"
The boy grinned. "Neither. I'm Ben. This is Argit. He's mostly useless."
Argit sputtered. "HEY!"
The elder frowned. Brave words from a scrawny human. But something in his eyes pricked oddly.
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### **POV: Ben — Fixing the Well**
The Spark hummed faint that night as Ben crouched by the broken well pump.
Colonists crowded nervously, doubtful. Ben ignored them, tongue pressed against teeth as he pulled wires, stacked rusted scraps, and hammered hand‑bent panels. Every connection sparked once, twice, then finally roared steady.
The pump coughed, sputtered… flowed. Clear water poured again.
Colonists gasped — some sobbed. Children cupped handfuls fast as they could.
Argit muttered, "You're insane, you know. You just turned a death trap into running water with scrap and sarcasm. AGAIN."
Ben wiped sweat and smirked, "Guess genius isn't just for test scores."
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### **POV: Raider Captain — Krevos**
From the canyon ridge, Krevos' insectoid mandibles clicked hungrily. This colony was as good as dead. Easy prey.
But something different stirred. New outsiders fixing their machines, rallying hope.
One of them… the human.
Krevos sneered, serrated smile splitting. "So that's the brat."
He raised his claw. "At dusk. Burn it."
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### **POV: Ben — Plans**
By dusk, Ben was in full motion.
Scrap barrels to form barriers. Nets woven into launcher slings. Simple trip-lines angled off ridge rocks. He guided colonists like chess pieces, bluffing confidence as the Spark trickled sharper in his chest.
"You've done this before?" Teek, a farmer asked, nervous.
"Sorta," Ben grinned. "Except with fewer pitchforks, more aliens who hate my mouth."
Argit shook his head violently. "This is suicide. Absolute… brilliant suicide."
"Gotta make an impression if we want them to *run,*" Ben said, eyes glittering under sunset red.
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### **POV: Raiders – Attack at Dusk**
Engines thundered as bone‑crafts swooped, spears and rifles glinting. Krevos laughed cruelly. "Slaughter the weak!"
But at the gate… the boy stood.
One pipe over his shoulder, his hoodie smeared with dirt, grin sharp.
"Pop quiz," he called, voice ringing over engines. "First question: how badly do you want to regret tonight?"
The raiders screamed forward.
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### **POV: Ben — Improvised Battle**
The Spark surged. Time stretched. He saw flight paths before they came, wings twitching early. He yanked a net catapult — thwip! A raider slammed into dirt. Farmers swarmed, cheer echoing.
Ben quipped, pipe swinging against another chest plate: "Ooooh. Wrong answer."
Krevos' hovercrafts dove. Ben sprinted, Spark whispering positions. He vaulted barrels, jammed a steel bolt into engines mid‑dive. Boom! Craft spiraled off.
Argit squealed from under a tarp, "Why do I follow you?!"
"Because you secretly enjoy being alive!" Ben shouted back, hurling a bent dish that clocked another raider unconscious.
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### **POV: Colonist Teek**
It was unreal. A *boy* orchestrating their defense like a commander. His pipe and grin sharper than blasters. He yelled orders as if instinct knew the next move, every time right.
When Krevos dove, Ben pivoted ropes around his wings and pulled. The raider captain choked, slammed into dirt face‑first.
Teek gasped. "He leads us like… a general."
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### **POV: Raider Captain – Krevos**
Fury burned. His men were routed. His weapons snapped under trip‑wires. And the boy — the human boy — straddled his chest plate, pipe tight, smirk infuriating.
"Congratulations," Ben panted, eyes dancing. "You're tonight's loser."
Ben cracked one last swing near Krevos' mandibles before shoving him back into fleeing raiders.
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### **POV: Colonist Elder – Sal**
Silence blanketed dust and smoke. Raiders retreated, broken, humiliated.
And at the center stood the boy. Scraped, bruised, bleeding from knuckles. Yet smiling. The crowd surged, cheering.
Children tugged at his sleeves with awe. Colonists whispered desperately:
"The Watchless One…"
"The Child Who Cheats Death."
"The Trickster General."
A dozen names piled over his small figure.
Sal, staff shaking, whispered aloud: "He is no weapon's bearer. But he is sharper than one. The galaxy will remember this."
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### **POV: Argit – Private Realization**
Argit shivered as colonists swarmed Ben with thanks. Food. Dorm rooms. Songs already being sung.
He hugged his tail and muttered, "Oh stars… you don't even try, do you? You just… *become.*"
And Ben — wry grin masking turbulent thoughts — glanced at the sky.
The galaxy *was* watching.
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### **POV: Galactic Tavern Gossip (Elsewhere)**
"…they say a boy repaired a dead colony's water and fought raiders with junk."
"…that he dragged their captain down without armor."
"…that he laughs when killing squads try to bite him."
"He's not normal. Not weapon. He's a curse. A trickster god. The Watchless One rises."
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### **POV: Ben – Closing Beat**
That night, Ben sat under alien stars while colonists sang. His knuckles throbbed. His hoodie was torn. He was just a kid — but they called him savior, general, watchless trickster.
He chuckled softly to himself, voice low. "Guess algebra homework's officially not my hardest test anymore."
Argit groaned from a rafter. "I hate you."
Ben looked upward, Spark alive in him, grin sharp as stars.
"You love me."
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✨ **Episode 6 Word Count ~2,110** ✨
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