Iceland looked up as a man ran into his office.
"Sir," he said, breathing heavily, "Sir, there are…American….planes flying…over the city…"
Iceland frowned. "Have they said what they want?"
The messenger just shook his head.
"Has there been news from my brother?"
"He said there…might…be an American invasion…."
"What?! When did this news come in?"
"15 minutes ago, sir. He sent a plane for you."
"I'm not leaving."
"Here's the message he sent you." The messenger handed Iceland an envelope.
Iceland ripped it open.
"Little Brother," it began:
"Recent intelligence informs me that America wishes to occupy you island. Please come back to Oslo IMMEDIATELY. I will send the RNAF to halt the invasion, but I would prefer to make sure that you are safe. This is not so much a friendly request as it is an order. I look forward to seeing you soon.
-Your Big Brother,
Kongeriket Norge"
"Damn it all!"
"Sir?"
"Where is the plane waiting?"
"The airfield, sir."
"Let's go." Under his breath, he muttered, "I knew we should have had a military."
He scribbled some orders on a sheet of paper. "This is to be read to the citizens. They are to resist as long as possible."
"It will be done."
"Thank you."
America was satisfied with the invasion of Iceland. It had only been a week since he had presented his plans to his boss, and yet the bureaucracy had been surprisingly efficient.
Maybe they wanted revenge just as badly as he did.
It did not take long to claim the capital, and after that, the resistance was quickly crushed. The American forces were superior to the Norwegian forces; after all, America was the land of innovation and invention.
With Iceland under his control (the land, anyway, if not the person), it was time to move on: first to Ireland, who was not a friendly neutral and was more likely to side with the enemy; and then to Norway.