Tehran Deal

By the dawn of 1940, The Great War had dragged almost every nation into conflict with another, a fact that was costly for the strongest nations, but near-fatal for those less-prepared. In Asia, two nations had chosen to remain neutral in the fighting, but feared that at any moment that peace could be shattered. One nation had the opportunity to cement themselves as a cornerstone of the global economy, but required more time to complete their plans. The other had the manpower and raw resources to spare, but desired a strong ally to help them rise to parity in the region. Together, these two monarchies, bound by interests in both survival and profit, threaten to shift the global balance in ways that are yet to be seen…

The Precipice of War

The smoke could be seen from the border, the British-Afghani troops were at battle beyond the Russian frontier. Samarkand had fallen days ago, but skirmishes continued all across the desolate reaches, as cossack units harassed enemy supply lines. Khorasani scouts had observed the fighting from on-high, watching to ensure it remained on the other side of the line. The entire nation was on alert, but no one was certain which party would threaten Safavid sovereignty first. Even an accidental incident of bloodshed could ruin the paper-fragile peace.

In the waning days of 1939, the advisors to Padishah Solayman II debated daily how to respond to the global conflict which had landed on their doorstep. Russia had for a long time been a fruitful trade partner when they did not attempt to take a bite out of their sovereign lands. Likewise, the British-held lands to the east and west proved to be even more profitable, albeit with an even greater threat of invasion. The prosperity of the realm relied on trade with both of these regional powers, but the risk of either one making them pick a side in the conflict jeopardized this peace. Iran needed to offer something to both parties that guaranteed their safety, something that made them indispensable moving forward.

One proposed answer was the revival of an old military project abandoned in the dirt south of the capital, a project referred to by the codename: Ẓellollāh. The project was the Safavid’s hopeful answer to the aether-race carried out by the Great Powers decades ago, but was abandoned by the previous head of the Safavid Navy due to the cost and scale, even as the shah’s best scientists had already uncovered the secrets of the technology years ago. What had been completed of the Ẓellollāh Gate was left literally buried in the countryside, waiting for the new Navy Chief Timsar Gholamali Bayandor to reawaken it. As he reported to the small council on December 2nd, “The heart of the machine is still in relative working condition, we only require the power to unleash it, and the steel to build the superstructure. The fuel will be costly, but the royal coffers can surely manage an initial investment. With enough men and metal it could be aloft in a year’s time.” The use of this project was truly risky, but the danger did not deter Solayman. The only concern was the timetable, and the method in which they could even consider meeting it. Even if they committed all available steel (an action which would halt the production of their new fleet), they would need a lot more manpower to finish on time, or at all.

The task to balancing the bill for Project Ẓellollāh fell to Minister of Foreign Affairs Mohammad Ali Zoka-ol-Molk, who had offered to seek out assistance abroad. He had previously served as a financial advisor, an important skill he needed in tandem with his particular diplomatic assignment. He needed a worthy partner for the project that was not too invested in the war, but also stood to profit in its wake. As many nations now found themselves picking sides, the answer quickly became obvious to the foreign minister. Zoka-ol-Molk quickly set out the next week for a diplomatic mission, the destination of which was the Kingdom of Siam.

Stargazing in Siam

Like the Safavids, the Siamese found themselves in a difficult political situation, torn between two warring neighbors. To the south and west they had two separate administrations of the British Commonwealth, who Siam shared long land borders with. They had profited for a long time taxing goods flowing in and out of British land, but the Protectorate had shown some interest in colonizing them for some time, especially as they chafed under the increasing cost to do business. The French on the other hand had been more amicable in recent years, even though a brief conflict in the last century had cost Siam some of its land in Indochina. The war of course caused much of their official business to dry up, in fear of angering either one of their neighbors. They had promised to uphold neutrality by enforcing strict border controls for both parties, a blessing more for the Indochinese than the British, but had also refused to recognize Nguyen’s new revolutionary government. It was only a matter of time before this tenuous situation crumbled, and the Siamese were worse off compared to their prospective allies, especially with their lagging military technology. The nation's rich warrior traditions meant very little in the face of cutting-edge aether ships.

Zoka-ol-Molk arrived on the 26th of December, immediately jumping into a meeting with an old friend. Chaophraya Adul Bunnag was one of Rama VII’s closest advisors, and the scion of Siam’s wealthiest merchant family. He was also the aristocratically-appointed Commander-in-Chief of the Royal Navy, a title previously held by his Great-Grandfather and several other members of his family. He had always pushed for updating the Siamese fleet, but the famine and plague of the last decade had taken their toll on the economy. While Siam was an incredibly profitable exporter of rice, their perceived “closeness” to the Bengal Flu had scared off many western buyers. The one man who had purchased the bulk of that grain, however, was the very same man who had come all the way from Iran to negotiate with him. Indeed, Zoka-ol-Molk’s prior dealings had both saved the Siamese economy, and his own nation’s population from widespread famine.

Their meeting was held at the peak of Doi Inthanon, Siam’s tallest mountain, where they celebrated the full-moon. While it had been a day of reunion, the conversation quickly turned to business. If war was all but a certainty, then they needed to find a means of fighting on their terms. Zoka-ol-Molk wanted to suggest a fourth way of navigating through the Great War, one that would invite conflict with as few nations as possible, and allow both countries to profit in the destruction they aimed to avoid. The Safavids had profited immensely for the past century supplying fuel to the world as it expanded in the stars, and to ensure they could do that again, they would need access to new resources. The biggest hurdle was initial investments of materiel, something he believed Bunnag could acquire by leaning on his family name. He appealed to Adul as the descendant of a prominent Persian family, one whose initial profit in his new homeland was born out of protecting the Siamese monarch. The Bunnag line may have shed many of its Islamic trappings, but Zoka-ol-Molk hoped to pull on some form of familial nostalgia. As a man whose career was literally set before him by his forebearers, Adul was very susceptible. Even if sails were traded in long ago for steel, life as a mariner was what he always wanted.

With both men on board with the scheme, they set a date for a summit between their two monarchs, set to be held in Tehran on January 25th, the next full moon. They would communicate over the next month while they hammered out the details for their respective rulers. As a token of their sincerity, Zoka-ol-Molk gifted a second-generation aether frigate in the name of the Padishah. The vessel was dubbed the Chulalangkorn, in honor of the king’s father. It was the perfect gift to get Rama VII to the table, and set their plan in motion. The gift was just as much a present to Adul Bunnag, who insisted on using the ship to fly to Tehran, the ultimate symbol of their future partnership.

The Consortium of Chulalangkorn

The Siamese delegation arrived to much fanfare; the padishah ensured that the prerequisite level of pomp was given to his guests. Rama and Solayman conversed back and forth in simple English, relying on their negotiators for translating the complex terms of the agreement. That said, the two kings hit it off well at the banquet, gossiping about their respective travels in Britain during their youth. When it came time to read over and sign their agreement, they reconvened aboard the ship, the sleek Safavid-made vessel refurnished with Siamese fineries serving as the perfect backdrop for the agreement. The Tehran Deal, as it would be publicized in international press, was signed at 23:39, ushering in a new era of the two nations’ already storied relationship.

The charter signed that night established an economic consortium, not too dissimilar in purpose to that of the Nordic Union. The agreement tied the two monarchies of Iran and Siam together both economically and militarily, in which they would assist each other in any future wars, and support joint business ventures. Their nations would divert a portion of their wealth into organizing a “private” business entity, administered by Zoka-ol-Molk, but operated largely with a Siamese hierarchy. The organization’s obvious ties to the twin states would ensure protections in the event of military action, yet the separate structure would allow for international corporations to operate in their umbrella with semi-legitimacy. 

The Moongazer Consortium, in its initial stage, would be established as a logistics company specializing in aether transportation under a neutral banner. The fleet would be assembled from the Safavids’ last-generation fleet, which had been phased out over the past five years. For crew, Adul Bunnag used his pull in the Siamese Navy to discharge several of his most loyal captains, who would enjoy retirement with a “richer” work experience. As the company gained more traction over the year, they would incorporate private individuals from all nations, not just to poach talented sailors, but to muddy the waters as much as possible on who manned these vessels. If protected neutrality didn’t scare off commerce raiders, then perhaps the voice of their neighbors might give pause. Whenever their plan entered phase two, the Consortium was also going to need as much manpower as it could get its hands on.

Before they could reveal the true purpose of the Moongazer Consortium, Rama and Solayman would need to carry out their exchange of resources, and revive Project Ẓellollāh. The Safavids shared arms, armor, and other technologies with the Siamese, including more shield generators for their border cities. They also promised to share half of their empire’s terrestrial oil supply as soon as they arrived at phase two, helping Siam to use their newly received fleet should the need arise. If their long-term scheme worked, they would have plenty of oil to spare.

King Rama VII would in return use the new Consortium fleet to transport immense amounts of food, steel, and other raw resources to aid construction on the megastructure. For labor, the monarch cut a deal with the remaining indentured underclass, offering a short-term relocation to work on the project in exchange for fast-tracking the end of any outstanding contracts. His father had formally ended the slave trade over three decades ago, but left a loophole for existing debtors and other special cases. His brother, Rama VI, never closed this backdoor, leaving tens of thousands in a state of ‘wage purgatory’, where they could not leave their existing work legally until everything was paid off. Children were also burdened with recovering the debts of their family, a near impossibility during the economic downturn of the last decade. Seeing this as the perfect instance to resolve two problems at once, the king offered the expunging of all debts for any workers who assisted Project Ẓellollāh in any facet, whether in resource extraction or in the construction itself. He also made sure to look at closing the loop for future generations, as the system of indentured servitude that remained was a black mark on his father’s legacy.

The work force was more than the Safavids could have asked for, giving the construction project almost too many bodies to find work for. The numbers were enough that it was more productive to reorganize the work into three eight hour shifts per day, and work around the clock. This made construction move even faster than expected, and made up for the shortage of important worker infrastructure, like beds, which were outnumbered more than 2 to 1. While many labor teams were underqualified, the work to assemble the massive framework of the structure was a mundane, repetitive task, one that could easily be taught with on-the-job supervision. Overnight, a tent city formed on the outskirts of Tehran, a Siamese exclave on Safavid soil. The added noise and light pollution from Ẓellollāh was an obvious annoyance to those in the city, but the padishah was certain the project would be worth the restless nights, as the risk of war on his doorstep was something that gave him a much greater degree of anxiety…