Russia smiled slightly as the one of the final centrifuge tests came to a successful close. He couldn't help but smile when he saw the little dog complete another test; she had a knack for always bringing a smile to his face. Russia pulled the panicked bundle of fur out of the machine, carefully pulling off her flight suit as he pet her gently behind the ears, murmuring soft, calming words in Russian. Slowly but surely she began to relax in Russia's arms, heartrate slowing to a normal pace and breathing evening out.

"Good girl, Laika," he said sweetly. "You are such a good girl…"

Laika began to wag her tail at the familiar words of praise. They were something she heard often from Russia and the other scientists in the space program. She was always told what a good girl she was or what a great job she had done on her latest test, though it was with a heavy heart that Russia spoke these words this time. The other scientists were paying the two no mind as they reviewed the data, or so he thought as he cuddled Laika to his chest.

"Laika… Or do you prefer Kudryavka? I always thought that name fit better with that curly tail of yours…" He ran a gloved hand along her tail, straightening it out briefly to watch it immediately curl back to its previous shape. "Do you like these tests that we put you through, Laika? I cannot imagine you like the simulated sounds of the spacecraft or being placed in the centrifuge… And what of your flight suit? Does it make you happy to wear it? Do you like being part of our team?" Laika just looked up at Russia, listening carefully to every word he said. "You have been with us for a little while… Surely you must understand what is going on. You must understand what is going to happen to you, da? Why are you okay with it? You could have run away like Bolik did…save yourself from your fate…"

Russia hugged Laika tighter, petting her scruffy fur. "You are always so sweet and calm… You can make us all smile and you never resist. Even though… I am so sorry, Kudryavka! If I could take you home with me, I would… I am so sorry that you are going to have to… T-That Yazdovsky chose you to be our flight dog… That Khrushchev said I had until the anniversary of the Bolshevik Revolution to develop Sputnik II even though that was hardly a month after the first great success…" Laika licked Russia's face as the large man began to tremble slightly, violet eyes sparkling with the tears that threatened to overflow. "Why did you have to be such a good candidate…?"

Russia jumped slightly as a hand came down on his shoulder. Standing behind him was Yazdovsky, one of the two lead scientists responsible for Laika's inevitable fate. The middle aged man looked down at Russia, sighing and running a hand through his dark thinning hair. "Ivan, this test has to happen whether we want it to or not. You know that, right?"

"D-Da, but why can it not be somebody else? Why does it have to be done in this small constraint of time? There will be no safe return trip for Kudryavka… Our technology has not advanced that far yet; you know this, I know this, surely Khrushchev knows this as well. Are we right for putting her, that has done us no harm whatsoever, on a mission to space that will lead only to her death just for the advancement of my space program?"

Yazdovsky sighed again and pulled the large Nation to his feet. Russia pulled Laika up with him, not wanting to let go of the dog just yet. She was so warm and soft and Russia knew it wouldn't be that way much longer. "She has to go back to her carrier; the launch is tomorrow." Russia pulled back slightly at the scientist's words. "Think of what this will mean for the Soviet Union going forward, Ivan. We'll have such a lead on the Americans that they could never hope to catch up to us. Space will be ours! And the data; all the data we'll collect during the flight. Soon we'll be putting men into space and it will be thanks to Laika."

"Kudryavka has done us no wrong, Yazdovsky… She loves us and brings smiles to our faces and is always so calm and trusting… She trusts us without a second thought and she will be trusting us to put her on that spacecraft and pick her up out of it when it is over, only the spacecraft will be the last thing she ever sees… She will die scared and alone in the cosmos and it will be because we have betrayed her trust!"

"Ivan, I know it's difficult. Working with animals always is. They're cute, so we get attached. She was so calm and loving that we all couldn't help but fall for her charm. I've grown attached to her too after all this time." The scientist chuckled a bit. "I even took her home to meet my wife and kids. They loved her. She has so little time left that I wanted to do something nice for her. Let her last memories on Earth be of living like a real pet, even if just for a day."

Laika's tail wagged as Russia buried his face into her fur. Yazdovsky continued on, as much as Russia didn't want to think about the fate of the dog any longer. "We don't want to see them hurt in the name of scientific development, but at the end of the day, it has to be done. We test on the animals so it'll be safe for humans later.

We picked her up as a stray off the streets of Moscow, cleaned her, gave her a name and a place to call home… I think I can say I've spent more time with Laika recently than I have with my family or kids." He tried to lighten the mood slightly, to no avail. Yazdovsky stuffed his hands into the pockets of his lab coat and sighed again. "She was a small, scruffy dog with no future and would possibly have died of frostbite if we did not get to her. She came into this world with no name and no future, but tomorrow she will become a legend here and to the rest of the world, being remembered forever.

And she will not suffer, you know this. After a week of space travel, she will be peacefully euthanized with the poisoned food. She will see things that no dog or man has ever seen before and then she will close her eyes just like she is going to sleep and it will be over."

Russia stayed quiet, looking at the dog resting so comfortably in his arms. Laika was so calm and it killed him inside to see her like this. She should be panicking or trying to escape, not trusting them blindly. But it was too late to change that now…

Gazenko, the second space-life scientist who worked alongside Yazdovsky approached them, reaching for the dog in Russia's arms. "We've got to get her prepared for her trip tomorrow. There are still a few more things to be done."

Russia hesitantly looked from Laika to the two scientists standing before him. Should he do it? He knew he had to per his boss' orders, but there was that part of him that refused, and right now it was that part of him that had control of his body. "Ivan, give her over," Yazdovsky demanded, and it was with a heavy heart that Laika exchanged hands and was carried over to a table.

"Will you be present for the launch tomorrow?" he asked the large Russian softly, already fairly sure of his answer.

"Da…" Russia fixed his violet eyes on the ground, nodding weakly. "I will have to be and I wish to give Kudryavka a proper send-off… I want to see her before she becomes just another memory…"

Yazdovsky opened his mouth to say something to the man, yet Russia had already pushed past him, heading for the door. The sudden burst of cold air was like a wake-up slap to the face, making his scarf whip around violently as he walked the distance back to his home. He needed the time to reflect and be alone with his thoughts and in the darkness, nobody would be able to see the tears that rolled down his cheeks.

He hated himself. He hated this whole thing. He hated Laika for being the perfect sweetheart that she was. His boss ordered it and he hated himself for not being able to stop it or convince them to use something different. An order from his boss was something that Russia could never refuse, however.

Russia had no idea how he would get to sleep tonight; his dreams would be full of images of Laika on the spacecraft being launched, becoming nothing more than a star in the sky, never seeing any of the people she trusted again…

Russia did not have a good sleep at all.

He arrived at the launch site several hours before the scheduled launch time, looking tired and disheveled. Just as he feared, his sleep was fitful and his mind was racing too fast to allow him any proper rest.

"You look like hell," Yazdovsky commented the moment he saw the Nation. Russia simply sighed and tried to fix his hair and scarf to make himself look more presentable. He didn't want Laika to be surprised at his sudden appearance; he had to be as cheerful as always when he sent her off.

Laika was being sponged with the alcohol and iodine solutions when he walked over. Her capsule, Sputnik II, was set up and waiting for its lone occupant. She stood there calmly as the scientists worked to get her ready, not putting up a fight when the sensors were placed on her body.

"Heartrate sensors, blood pressure sensors… Everything connected and working?" Yazdovsky looked to the small team just a few metres away. "We want to make sure all her bodily functions are monitored throughout the course of the trip."

The team confirmed that the equipment was functional and Laika was fitted into her flight suit for the very last time.

"Wait," Russia said to the man carrying Laika towards the capsule. "Give her to me."

Yazdovsky nodded once to the man and Russia took her into his arms, holding her against his chest as best he could. "Today is your day, Kudryavka. The world will be watching you. I will be watching you every step of the way." Russia managed a small smile. "You will never be forgotten, I promise… Thank you for everything you have done and I am sorry for everything… Truly sorry."

Nobody in the room dared speak a word as Russia said his farewell to her. He placed her into the capsule himself and securely fastened her to the harness. She would have no room to move around in there and get hurt during the space flight. Laika's tail began to wag inside her flight suit as she looked at Russia. He balled a fist but still kept the smile on his face as he kneeled down and kissed her once on the nose.

"Good-bye, Laika," Russia said softly. "Have a good trip. I hope everything you see there will be beautiful…"

Yazdovsky closed the hatch as Russia stepped away, unable to bring himself to be the one who would seal her in.

The sun was on its way down as Laika began her trip up. Russia found it ironic that not even it wished to be present for the mission that spelled nothing but death for the dog, but he would watch her in its place. Russia watched her ascend until she became nothing but a speck in the sky, her very own star, and then stayed there for hours, not able to take his eyes off the monitors that displayed Laika's vitals.

Russia was at that screen for a good four hours, watching her heartrate and breathing increase dramatically in fear and panic, then finally start to drop slowly back to normal levels.

And just like that, mere moments later, there were no responses from any of the monitors that were reading Laika's vitals.

No heartbeat. No breaths taken. No nothing.

3, November, 1957: Laika was gone and Russia didn't care who saw him cry.

So I finished this one-shot and am literally crying for this poor darling. I tried to keep this as accurate as I possibly could. Let me give you some historical background.

Barely a month after Sputnik's successful launch and the shaking up of the world, Khrushchev said that he wanted another satellite launched into space by the 40th anniversary of the Bolshevik Revolution. The project was led and the dogs were trained by space-life scientists Yazdovsky and Gazenko. But that sudden order gave the scientists very little time to perfect the technology for successful re-entry into Earth's orbit. That technology would not have been available until December. They built Sputnik II and Laika was the 'flight dog' selected to be part of an experiment that would eventually pave the way for humans travelling to space. They wanted to see if the dog could survive it. Laika's survival was never part of the equation. If she survived liftoff and weightlessness, it was planned to have her euthanized a week into the mission with a poisoned dose of food.

Laika was born a stray on the streets of Moscow and was picked up by the scientists when she was around three years old. She went through extensive training to stay calm in very confined spaces, eat special high nutrition gel, and even centrifuge tests, all of which would prepare her for her great space flight. She had handlers to calm her down after each test to help her heartrate and blood pressure return to normal.

In the days leading up to the launch, scientist Yadovsky took Laika home to play with his children, saying that "I wanted to do something nice for her. She had so little time left."

On 3, November, 1947, the day of the launch, Laika's fur was sponged with an alcohol solution and then covered with iodine where the sensors that would monitor vitals such as blood pressure, heart rate, and breathing would go. She was fitted into her flight suit and placed into Sputnik II, where the scientists kissed her nose and wished her bon voyage, for they knew she wouldn't be returning.

The exact time of launch is not pinpointed, but is said to have occurred somewhere between 5 and 7 Moscow time. Her vitals were monitored during the launch and they saw that her heartrate and breathing had increased dramatically as she began to panic. Part of the spacecraft failed to disengage properly on her way up and is believed to have been the reason that the thermal control was damaged. It was supposed to keep the inside a constant, comfortable temperature for her, but the malfunction caused it to overheat. Laika's breathing and pulse took much longer to return to normal during the flight as it did during the tests, the temperature in the cabin constantly increasing to over 100 F. Laika died about four hours into the flight from panic and overheating.

The Soviet Union originally tried to cover the time and cause of death for many years, saying it was things like oxygen depletion that killed her, or she had lived four full days into the flight. This sparked many rumours. It wasn't until 2002 that they revealed her true time of death.

Laika's death sparked many animal rights movements around the world. People were outraged at the Soviet Union's decision to send the dog into space, with some of the greatest anger coming from Great Britain. In 1998, when questioned, Gazenko expressed regret for sending Laika into space, saying "Work with animals is a source of suffering to all of us. We treat them like babies who cannot speak. The more time passes, the more I'm sorry about it. We shouldn't have done it... We did not learn enough from this mission to justify the death of the dog."

In 2008, a monument to Laika was erected in Star City, Russia. It depicts a dog (Laika) standing atop a rocket with a plaque that reads:

'Пионерам прорыва человечества в космос посвящает
Лайка
Первое живое сушество совершившее орбитальный
полет в космос на втором искусственном спутнике Земли
3 Ноября 1957 года.

Лайка подготовлена к полету сотрудниками
Научно-исследовательского
испытательного института
авиационной медицины
Министерства обороны'