73: Chapter 70 Dancing on the Cliff

February 15, 1979, Ahvaz.

The first thing Reza did upon returning to Ahvaz was not to handle government affairs, but to go to the workshop.

When he arrived, Fatima was at a test bench, staring at a pressure gauge reading with Daoud. Iskandari stood nearby, holding a notebook, his expression as focused as if he were in front of a roulette wheel at a casino.

Reza walked over, not interrupting, just standing behind them to watch.

The content of the test was the airframe airtightness of the second batch of Persian-1 Type B missiles—the first batch had passed all tests in a laboratory environment, but Fatima insisted that there was a non-negligible gap between the laboratory environment and the actual storage environment, and the second batch had to undergo practical simulation tests rather than theoretical calculations.

This insistence took an extra three days. Reza did not rush her, and now he saw the results: the airframe airtightness of all seven test missiles met the standards, with errors within three percent of the design parameters.

Seeing Reza arrive, Fatima stood up, and the first thing she said was: "Daoud's contribution rate is four percent higher than we estimated."

This was a formal recognition of his work in front of Iskandari, and also for Reza to see—she was not the type of person to let personal relationships influence her judgment, but she was also not the type to overlook others' contributions.

Reza nodded and said to Daoud: "Continue."

Daoud did not say any grand words, just nodded, then returned to the workbench to continue discussing the next issue with Fatima—the stability of the propellant at extreme temperatures. Reza watched for a while longer, then left.

Walking out of the workshop, Reza called Fatima aside and asked a question he had not asked in public: "If we need this batch of missiles to have combat deployment capability in the shortest possible time, how fast can it be done?"

Fatima thought for two seconds: "If it's just 'can be fired,' three days; if we need them to be 'accurate,' two weeks; if we need them to be 'stable,' a month."

"Why is the gap so large?"

"'Can be fired' only requires the airframe itself to be fine; 'accurate' requires debugging the fire control parameters of the launch system, as each missile's propellant formula has slight differences and must be calibrated individually; 'stable' requires complete environmental testing and reliability verification, a step that cannot be skipped."

Reza noted down the number "three days."

"Three days," he said, "what I need to know now is, if I require the workshop to turn this batch of missiles into a combat-ready deployment state within three days, can you do it?"

Fatima looked him straight in the eye, did not ask why, and just said: "Yes."

"What is the cost?"

"Some test procedures will be compressed, which might affect the long-term storage life of some batches of missiles," Fatima said, "but it won't affect the immediate launch. I think this cost is worth it."

"Then prepare," Reza said, "I will notify you of the specific time later, but the workshop must enter a state of readiness to move at any time from now on."

Fatima nodded, did not ask "why it needs to be ready to move at any time," but just turned back to convey this instruction to Iskandari and Daoud. The three of them had no extra conversation, just returned to their respective posts and began adjusting work priorities.

That same evening, Hemmati arrived, bringing the latest situation on the Abadan oilfield.

The situation was developing even faster than Reza had anticipated—stimulated by the news of Ayatollah Khomeini's return, the oil workers in Abadan had already begun to spontaneously organize larger-scale strikes. It was not the passive slowdown type, but a real work stoppage. The workers demanded a renegotiation of all terms of the oil contracts and demanded to have worker representative seats in the new National Iranian Oil Company.

"What is the attitude of the National Iranian Oil Company now?" Reza asked.

"It has already split," Hemmati said, "The management in Tehran is still trying to maintain the old system, but the three largest production bases—Abadan, Kharg Island, and Khorramabad—are no longer listening to Tehran's instructions at all, each acting on its own."

This was a situation he had been waiting for for a long time.

"Can your three bases coordinate actions in a unified way now?"

"Yes," Hemmati said, "but we need a nominal authoritative body to coordinate, otherwise if the three bases continue to act on their own for too long, they will start fighting for resources and influence internally."

"If I establish a 'Khuzestan Oil Workers Consultative Committee,' with representatives from each of the three bases, and I serve as the coordinator, would you accept it?"

Hemmati was stunned for a moment. This proposal—to establish a provincial oil coordination body independent of Tehran—was essentially establishing a new power node centered on Reza in the core resource area of Khuzestan before Ayatollah Khomeini's revolutionary regime formally took full control.

"This committee," Hemmati asked cautiously, "what is its relationship with the interim government in Tehran?"

"Technically, it is a temporary relationship," Reza said, "Before the political order of this country completes its restructuring, we need someone to coordinate daily affairs to avoid the three bases falling into chaos. After the new national order is established, this committee can naturally transition, dissolve, or transform, but the premise is—before that, it must exist."

Hemmati was silent for a few seconds, then asked a core question: "Your Highness, what is your ultimate goal in establishing this committee?"

Reza did not give him a grand narrative, saying directly: "Two. First, ensure that the interests of oil workers in this revolution are not swallowed by any new power structure—whether old or new. Second, ensure that Iran's oil lifeline does not fall into the hands of any foreign power during the potentially turbulent period ahead."

Hemmati took these two goals in, then said something Reza had not expected: "If that is the case, I suggest that you are not the chairman of the committee."

Reza raised an eyebrow: "Reason?"

"The committee needs someone who truly represents the workers to sit in that seat so that it can command respect. You should stand behind the committee, not in front of it," Hemmati said, "The greater your influence, the less you should stand directly in the foreground—a person with real power does not need to endorse everything with their own name."

This statement caused Reza to re-evaluate Hemmati one level higher—he was not only a loyal worker leader, but also someone who truly understood the logic of power operations. He knew the difference between "on-stage" and "behind-the-scenes," and he knew what kind of position was truly in control.

"Then who do you think is suitable?"

Hemmati thought for a moment and said: "A workshop director in Abadan, named Majid Salahati, forty-two years old, from a worker background, has prestige in all three bases, is not part of any faction, usually doesn't talk much, but keeps his word."

"Arrange for me to meet him," Reza said, "After meeting him, if I think he is suitable, the chairman of this committee will be his, and I will be the coordinator."

Hemmati nodded and left.

Hassan had been silent the whole time, and only after Hemmati left did he say: "Do you trust him?"

"It's not trust, it's usefulness," Reza said, "He understands power, which is the most important quality—more important than loyalty, because someone who understands power will not easily betray, because he knows the cost of betrayal."

On February 17, Salahati arrived.

The meeting place was the Governors Mansion, not the study, but a regular reception room that Reza had specially chosen. After Salahati came in, Reza noticed his first action—before sitting down, he wiped his hands on his knees, as if wiping off oil stains.

Reza remembered this detail.

The first sentence Salahati spoke was: "Your Highness the Governor, I am not very good with words. Hemmati asked me to come, so I came."

"You don't need to be," Reza said, "I will just ask you one question: If the oil workers are bullied in the new Iranian political landscape, what do you think should be done?"

Salahati thought for a moment and said: "Unite, and let them know that workers cannot be bullied at will."

"What if uniting is not enough?"

"Then unite even more."

Upon hearing this answer, Reza smiled—not a mocking laugh, but the kind of smile one has only when they truly find someone interesting.

"Do you know what the most difficult part of the seat you are about to take is?" Reza asked.

"I know," Salahati said, "I have to satisfy the workers, keep Tehran from seeing me as a trouble, and ensure the oilfields continue to produce. Of these three things, if any one is overdone, the other two will have problems."

"What if you can't do it?"

"Then I will step down," Salahati said, "I won't cling to the seat."

Reza nodded and said: "Tomorrow, you come to Ahvaz to take office."

Salahati did not say any words of thanks, just stood up, nodded, and left.

Hassan waited until he left before saying: "This person is even harder to understand than Hemmati."

"Not hard to understand, but so simple that one doesn't know how to use him," Reza said, "This kind of person has one greatest advantage: what he believes and what he says are the same thing. Such people are too rare on this land."

That night, Reza wrote down the action plan for the next three months in his notebook:

Phase 1 (February - March): The Khuzestan Oil Workers Consultative Committee is officially established, taking control of the province's oil production scheduling; completion of combat deployment preparations for the second batch of Persian-1 Type B in Ahvaz; continuing to promote liaison work within the military through Najjari and Farrokhzad.

Phase 2 (March - May): Waiting for the US Embassy incident to be triggered; once triggered, immediately intervene in the name of "protecting national sovereignty," while simultaneously converting diplomatic leverage into military and industrial resources; begin laying out the defense system for Khuzestan to cope with possible foreign intervention.

Phase 3 (May - September): The final window before the outbreak of the Iran-Iraq War, completing the expansion of military industrial capacity, establishing a complete chain of command, and ensuring that Khuzestan can maintain basic operations under any external shock.

After writing, he closed the notebook, put it into the safe, then stood up, walked to the window, and looked at the night outside.

The night in Ahvaz was very quiet, with the lights of the oil refinery in the distance, and the sound of dogs barking faintly in the night wind nearby.

This city, these oilfields, these people, had historically been chips for foreign powers to fight over, sacrifices in the game of great powers, and concessions and sacrifices on countless negotiation tables.

From today on, they will be the protagonists of another chapter of history.

Reza returned to the table, picked up his pen, wrote a line on the last page of the notebook, then closed the notebook, turned off the light, and went to sleep.

That line was: "Everything is ready. Waiting for that gunshot."