Stronger Together

Ensign Williams kept his eyes locked on the monitor, his commanding officer’s words barely registering.

“Engage?”

“You heard me: arm up. This is what we’ve been training for. We’re going in heavy and we’re going in loud.” Cdr. Peters was already loading his M16, a relic by modern standards, but one the senior officer had always insisted on having close by. The rifle’s shell was highlighted by the flashing red light that lit their office, a pulsing alarm accompanying it with every flash.

Williams looked at his superior, then back at the monitor, sweat already starting to collect on his brow. The Simian Research Facility had run drills countless times for any violent uprising. And these drills always ended in an implied bloodbath across all species. Even without any higher intelligence, these primates could still rip a man limb from limb. The training manual touted a chimpanzee’s grip strength of over 400 lbs., with needlessly descriptive illustrations to further drive home the danger these animals represented.

But this was the SRF. The biggest joke assignment for any ensign straight out of the academy. No matter how scary the training manual tried to make it, this was easily the dullest job Willaims had ever had in his short life. While Cdr. Peters always took this placement with deadly seriousness and tried to keep that air of omnipresent dread floating throughout the office, the past three years have been nothing but filing reports and watching monitors.

But today was different. Today was the first day that the alarm had sounded. The first day that there was anything to note on the security screens, other than various apes doing repetitive tests. The first day that his superior had ordered him to take up his firearm and prepare for the worst.

The commander always warned him that the greatest threat to this facility was any kind of coordination, but this…

“Ensign, I’m not going to ask again,” Peters was positioned at the door, loaded rifle at the ready. His trigger finger tapped hungrily at the side of the gun, but Williams couldn’t tell if this was a sign of excitement or fear.

“I mean…the drills only ever prepared for a violent uprising…” Williams swallowed. “This…doesn’t seem to fit those criteria.”

He turned his attention back to the screen in front of him. The monitor showed a lab room filled with Bonobo apes, one of the facility's primary test subjects. While typically full of energy, this group sat patiently on the floor in a circle. These subjects had been working on written language, and their progress now proudly displayed on the far wall. Written in filth, a clear-as-day message was scrawled onto the concrete.

Ape soldaritee. No wrk til demans met.

“What did I always say? Coordination will be the death of us.” Peter’s hand was on the doorknob, his grip visibly tight through his glove. “What could possibly be more coordinated than the world’s first non-human union? If we don’t act now, we might not get a second chance.”

“This wasn’t the type of coordination I thought we should be looking out for.” Williams admitted in an unsure tone. “Should we hear their demands at least?”

Peters spat.

“You want to be taking demands from a monkey?”

“Ape.”

“Oh, piss off with that!” The commander took out his sidearm and tossed it to the ensign, who caught it clumsily. “Besides, I can already tell you what these things are going to ask for. Softer hay around the pen. More durable tires to play with. Dental. Look around. You think the SRF has the funds for these kind of benefits? They barely pay for my coverage as is.”

Williams glumly stood from his chair, then paused.

“Wait, you get dental?”

“My point is, if we start giving into these ape demands now, there’s no telling where they will end.” Peters snorted, his hand still firmly on the doorknob. “First it’s organic bananas, then its shortened working hours, next thing you know they’ll be wanting representation on the board.”

Williams sighed as he looked back at the monitor, slowly pushing his chair into his desk.

“I just feel like we might be on the wrong side of history here.”

“If we act fast enough, this won’t make it to the history books.” Commander Peters swung open the door. As he did, an envelope that had been leaning against the door’s exterior fell to the ground. Both Peters and Williams stood frozen in place, the pair staring at the unsuspecting envelope. After a few moments, Peters bent down and carefully picked up the item in front of him. He walked back into the room and closed the door, sliding the envelope open as he did and turning it upside to dump its contents. A single sheet of paper emerged, which the commander examined carefully.

“What is it?” Williams asked, trying to get a peek over his commanding officer’s shoulder.

“A signed document of support from the other unions at the facility.”

Williams gulped.

“More ape unions?”

“In a way,” Peters sighed before slouching onto his chair with a defeated expression. “The electricians, cleaning staff, support workers…seems like you and I are the last ones to the party.”

Williams paused, the words sinking in around him.

“Does this mean what I think it means?”

His commanding officer took out a cigarette and placed it loosely in his mouth, his antique rifle drooping flaccidly toward the floor.

“Ensign, welcome to the first cross-species strike.”

Williams watched as the enthusiasm drained from his boss’s face, the reality of the situation wringing out any machismo that had been fueling him. The young ensign tried to match his defeated energy, but for some reason couldn’t muster the same gloominess.

His mind was elsewhere.

On a nagging toothache that had been bothering him for months, one which he hoped would vanish on its own.

Williams’ eyes trailed back down to the monitor, glancing at the proud apes sitting in their circle.

Dental would be nice…