[i][sub]Tblisi, Georgia, Transcaucasia[right]July 8th, 1955[/right][/sub][/i]
[hr]
	[color=lightgray]While the exterior of the parliament proudly proclaimed the iron willpower of Georgia's testament to time, the round table the premiers sat around only told the tale of some most desperate souls. The interior was musky, dripping an oozing haze of mist and lint caked from the morning sun. Their impromptu council room had flooded itself with village elders, generals, lieutenants, adventurers, and any and all who cared to pack themselves into this rancorous meeting of minds. [/color]

	[b]"If they want their damned precious Turks so much, I say they can have them! And if they aren't happy with that, i'll enjoy watching those Turks try to march a Renault across the Javakhk Range."[/b]

	[color=lightgray]Ah, young Vazha. The Georgian incessantly boasted with impressive proclivity upon himself, leaning well along the more aggressive side, from the tiniest stern glance in basic small talk to the bombastic exchanges in the high courthouse. And here, in the early hours of the morning, he unyielded his verbal incendiaries. He had a temper, no doubt, but that same fiery temperament lent him a certain popularity. Blyukher cracked a faint smile, a bit remnisicent of that same tempering of temper fading as he had been through some four decades of war. From his etched, creased face easily slid an approving grin, a reminiscence of the fire he felt fade through the years. [/color]

	[b]"What are you suggesting?!"[/b]

	[b]"It's simple! If that minister is so concerned with Turks living in Turkey, well, we here in the Caucasus have plenty of horses to ensure they may all reach the border safely..."[/b]

	[color=lightgray]All the Armenians - save Petrosyan - chortled in turn, peppered with acrimonious applause. She, on the other hand, mulled about in an awkward smile, its ilk given only for conflicted and uncomfortable disagreements. Most among them would never be so arrogant as to say they could march on Ankara, but a scrap with the Turks? One of the few things that seemingly kept the realm together, and at that, a chance few would pass up. [/color]

	[b]"We should wait to see what the foreign powers have to say."[/b] [color=lightgray]Viyan protested, [/color][b]"Terrain and the people may be on our side...but it's not too late to find more...[i]amiable[/i] solution."[/b] 

	[b]"And just [i]who[/i] do you think will stick their necks out for us?"[/b]

	[color=lightgray]Viyan flashed a warm smile.[/color]

	[b]"[i]'If God is with us, then who is against us?'[/i]"[/b]

[hider=Telegram to the Sejm]
[i]
To the honourable cabinet of the United Republic's Sejm,

	Yesterday, we have received an ultimatum from the Turkish Republic calling into question the status of the Azerbaijani Turks. In spite of the commitment upon which our very foundation is built upon to emancipate the varied peoples of the Caucasus, they have taken it upon themselves to place numerous claims that our united republics are engaged in the suppression of the culture and well-being of Turkic peoples within our lands, Furthermore, we have reason to suspect that the Turkish are more than willing to use military action if either our response or the results of the referendum are not to their liking.

	Simply put, we in Transcaucasia shall do no insult to our principles by insinuating that we replace the Russian subjugation of Baku and Yerevan with a Turkish one. We humbly call upon the powers of Europe and the international community to stand in support of our young nation. Any and all council will be greatly appreciated in the times to come.

[right]Sincerely,
	The United Councils of Transcaucasia[/right]
[/i]
[/hider]

	[b]"Do you [i]actually[/i] expect this to work?"[/b] [color=lightgray]a junior officer voiced, the doubt in his face dropping from his wary frown.[/color]

	[b]"If it does, all well and good."[/b] [color=lightgray]She confidently responded,[/color] [b]"And if not...it will buy us some time."[/b]

	[b]"Time we're wasting..."[/b] [color=lightgray]Vazha hushed beneath his ruffian mustache. If the Turks wanted a fight, Vazha and many others would gladly oblige. Their Chechen friends ran the last time they had fought, and their bigger brothers might not prove much different; Apples never fall far from the tree, after all. 

	But thankfully, Petrosyan had the sense between them to prepare.[/color]