Laika was shot into space by the Soviet Union in November of 1957, when I was just three months old. She was a stray, probably part Samoyed, and part Terrier. She was the first animal to orbit the Earth.
The Soviets, however, did not give Laika a round-trip ticket. The circumstances of her demise was long a secret, and too sad to relate here.
The world is full of Laikas: people other people shoot off into the worst places in the world, and they can never come back. Not really. Laikas are the abandoned people who can do nothing to help themselves.
Laikas are waiting for a hero.
Is there a part of you that is moved by Laika's tale, and wish there was something you could do to give it a happy ending? The sequel's theme is that moment when you realize you're working for the worst people in the world, and decide to rescue as many Laikas as you can. It pulls back for a wider picture of the events begun in the first novel, …