“Athos,” she finally answered. “My name is Athos.” Like the musketeer? “And your last name?” Michael demanded. “I don’t have one.” He frowned. “You have one. You weren’t born here, kid.” “Maybe I was beamed down to study your species.” Alex snorted, and we watched as the little girl took Rika’s hand and backed up, hovering close to the woman and away from Michael with a scowl on her face.
