February 1942, Bougainville Island Western Solomans
The shore was so calm, the seas so clear it seemed a mere impossibility of what was taking place in the surf. A wounded mother, desperate to reach the safety of American lines and coming up short. Now out of time and due to give birth to her pup. Argonaut was an aging pre war submarine, born in the 1920s. She, like all other submarines, had been caught completely by surprise when the Japs attacked Pearl Harbor. The breeding season had just ended and the Navy's only available killing machine had no choice but to take the war to the enemy pregnant. Argonaut cursed the Japs as she dragged herself onto the beach with her front fins. She rolled on her side, stern resting in the waves. Scrabbling briefly she managed to find a sturdy stick that she shoved into her mouth, resting against her back teeth. It wouldn't do to scream and bring unwanted attention. Argonaut settled in for the long haul, knowing that with her injuries the labor would be particularly difficult.
It was the screams of the pup, not the mother, that drew Mitzu Shimako out of her bed. With her small hut almost on the beach it was a short walk down to the surf. She came upon Argonaut. The adult submarine was out of breath, the stick laying next to her in the sand having fallen from her mouth. The newborn pup was struggling out of its sack having just been born. Seeing Mitzu Argonaut struggled to get her fins under her and fight the Jap off. But weakened by blood loss her right fin gave way and she collapsed. Mitzu could hear the sound of bone shattering and she swallowed back bile as she realized what had happened. Argonaut's spine, damaged by depth charge and overstressed by the hard labor snapped. Argonaut instantly lost all feeling in her body from her shoulders aft. Mitzu knelt beside her, hearing her heart grow weaker as her paralyzed lungs failed to provide oxygen for it to pump around. At some point their gazes met and Mitzu felt something pass through her, some form of understanding. Her hand reached out and she felt a submarine for the first time. Argonaut's skin was rough, like sandstone, and the muscle beneath was solid. This was one powerful, robust war machine. Beneath her gentle hand, Argonaut made a soft humming sound, almost like a purr and her eyes closed for the last time. Saying a little prayer, Mitzu turned her attentions to the newborn. Pups were entirely dependent upon their mother for the first several weeks of their life. Without Argonaut its future was uncertain but Mitzu wasn't about to let it die. It's whines were silenced as she picked it up and upon close examination through the birthing fluid realized it was a girl. Her skin was as rough as her mother's but with a leathery feel to it, perhaps a side effect of being a newborn. Mitzu was reminded of a fish her father had caught once that had the same texture to it. "Mingo." She murmured. "I'll call you Mingo." Wrapping the newborn pup in the folds of her shirt, she carried her back to the hut.