Author's note: Okay, guys. This is pretty much going to be the DT17 version of the DT87 episode 'Top Duck'. We're meeting Launchpad's parents, he hasn't seen them for a while, but this time it's not entirely Launchpad's fault. Also getting in some backstory for Launchpad, which was unfortunately missed with things getting cancelled, but I'm hoping I've kept this in line with some of the foreshadowing the show did actually have.
"I can't believe I'm going to meet Ripcord McQuack!" Della bounced along behind Scrooge, trailing through the research and development building she had not been surprised to find he owned. When Scrooge had told her he was having a fancy new aeroplane designed, of course, she'd been interested. But, when she'd found out her favourite stunt pilot from her childhood was going to be flying it at the upcoming airshow, well, she'd nearly lost it.
There was no way she was waiting for the upcoming airshow now. Not when she knew the guy who owned the plane. Sometimes, having Scrooge as your uncle had its perks.
"Will you settle down?" Scrooge grumbled. "You're behaving like a school kid."
"Um, well, excuse me, but Ripcord McQuack is only the best stunt pilot ever! Or, was." After coming back from the moon, Della had looked up many of the famous people she'd known growing up on the internet. Which, thankfully, was now a great deal faster than when she'd last used it. To her disappointment, she found many of them were either dead, had faded into obscurity, or turned out to be not very nice people. At least Ripcord McQuack was only retired, far too early in Della's opinion, but at least most people who knew anything about planes still knew who he was.
"And his wife is the best aerospace engineer money can buy. This is supposed to be a professional meeting. At least show some decorum."
"Come on. You wouldn't have invited me if you expected it to go all prim and proper."
"I suppose," Scrooge mused. "Birdie and her husband are both pretty easygoing anyway. But just don't embarrass yourself."
"Pft. I'm an awesome pilot. Pretty sure I'm going to impress Ripcord McQuack. I bet he's never flown on the moon."
"Well," said Scrooge. "Technically, you crashed on the moon."
Big double doors opened onto a lab. The walls were lined with computer screens, desks spread with paper, and on the very back wall, floor to ceiling glass windows opened onto a hanger bay, where an imposing gunmetal grey aeroplane sat. Only emergency lighting was on in that area, and it clothed the metal beast in shadows. The screens around the room showed multicoloured views of the plane. Della wasn't sure what those meant. A woman was in front of one, looking at drawings. And, perched on the edge of the same desk, intimately close to his wife, sat Ripcord McQuack.
Birdie slapped a couple sheets of paper into his chest. "Honey, stop touching things."
Ripcord grinned at her, and holy heck, if he was not every bit as charming as Della could remember from when she was a teenager. It wasn't just the aeroplanes that had her interested. "Birdie," he said, "we've got company."
"Oh, Mr McDuck, you're here." Birdie shuffled the mess of papers into a haphazard pile.
Ripcord slid off the desk and waltzed over. "Hey, Mr McDuck. Don't worry. I don't actually know what my wife is doing right now. But rest assured she is on top of it."
"I hope you're ready to fly this thing too."
"Piece of cake."
"This is my niece, Della," said Scrooge. "She's a pilot and wanted to come along to see… the aeroplane."
"What do ya fly?" Ripcord drawled as he took her hand in a firm handshake.
"A… cargo plane…" Della's mind went blank. No! She had flown way cooler things than that, and suddenly she couldn't even think what they were called. She had to say something before she made herself look really stupid. "I had your calendar!" she burst out.
Ripcord stared at her. And then he started to turn pink.
Birdie, who had just wandered over with an electronic pad in hand, burst out laughing.
"Wait… calendar?" said Scrooge. "That's where I recognised you from. Della had this calendar on her wall when she was a teenager. And it had all these pilots with aeroplanes and other machinery, wearing, well, not much of anything just strategically placed spanners…"
"Scrooge!" Della hissed as her beak flushed. "It had aeroplanes in it!"
"That clearly was not the theme."
"It was for charity," Ripcord said quietly. "I still can't believe you let me do that, Birdie."
"I still don't know why you bothered asking," Birdie smirked.
"I thought you'd say no!"
"Are you kidding? Seeing the look on your face every time a younger woman or man mentions it has made it all worthwhile." Birdie squeezed her husband's arm, leaning against him, and he smiled back at her.
"I really did think you were a great stunt pilot," said Della, somehow finding her tongue. She actually felt calmer now. With that out of the way, she could hardly say anything more embarrassing. "The stunts you could pull, and so close to crashing, and you were so much faster than everyone else, and you were… fearless. I… well, let's just say I was away from civilisation for a while. When I came back and found out about the crash and that you were no longer flying stunt planes… I mean, that must suck. You were so good at it! And the fact you can fly a big plane like Scrooge's but not the little ones? That's so weird; what the heck is with that?"
Ripcord's expression darkened as he took a step back and stiffened. The sudden change made Della realise how big he was. Probably taller than Launchpad, if not quite as broad, and, whilst she'd been immediately aware she'd put her foot in it with the calendar, now she had no idea what she'd said.
Birdie squeezed her husband's arm. "Rip," she said quietly, "she's not challenging you."
Ripcord swallowed hard, then forced a smile. "Yeah, that really sucked. At least, it seemed to, at first. But, I ended up with more time to spend with my family. And then I started doing flight training for young pilots. And," he put an arm around Birdie, and as he looked at his wife, he finally relaxed. "I've been able to be there for Birdie when she builds these amazing aeroplanes. Seriously, I don't know how she does it."
"Maths," said Birdie, like that was actually something simple.
"But, yeah," Ripcord tapped his thigh, "those tiny little cockpits were hard enough to squeeze into in the first place. I just can't manage it with a bum leg like this, far less operate the damned things. But, luckily, Birdie is smart enough to design her plane with a bit of legroom."
Birdie broke into a grin. "Would you like to see it?"
"That's what I'm here for," said Scrooge.
"Yes!" Della burst out.
Birdie grabbed Della by the arm and dragged her over to the windows overlooking the hanger bay. Her excitement was palatable and about a plane too, which was something Della could relate to. Della had certainly come to see Ripcord, but seeing Birdie so excited about the aircraft was fast catching and outpacing her excitement to meet the retired aviator. Imagine how fun it would be to actually make an aeroplane from the ground up? And hard. It had been hard enough to put an already made rocket back together.
"Anyone would think she was the one paying your wife," Scrooge muttered as he and Ripcord followed.
"You're going to love this." Birdie flicked a heavy industrial switch set next to the windows, and overhead lights clicked on. They revealed a sleek and angular plane but with a belly that looked surprisingly like…
"It's a cargo plane," said Della.
"It is the fastest, most maneuverable cargo plane you will ever see," said Birdie. "Vertical take-off and landing is just the start. I've shaved the aerodynamics down to the micrometre. And her programming allows her to calculate the optimum route to deliver whatever the heck you want, down to the second with millimetre accuracy."
"It…" said Della, who had lost Birdie somewhere around aerodynamics.
"It's a ridiculously over-engineered cargo plane," said Ripcord. "But maneuverable as heck, and I am going to have a ball putting her through her paces." Ripcord pressed a hand against the glass as he spoke. Della recognised that gleam in his eye. He was thinking about flying the thing, itching for the thrill of flight, but also longing for it with a desperation that, once Della saw it, made her stare.
"Which," Birdie continued, and her voice snapped Della out of the strange moment. "When I have the data from Ripcord's flight will mean I can tweak the aerodynamics even more."
"Which, I assume," said Scrooge, "means she'll be ready to hand over to the man paying you all this money to make him a decent delivery jet."
"She'll be within the agreed tolerances."
Ripcord turned away from the glass and gently bumped Birdie's shoulder. "Honey," he said with a smirk, "just say yes."
"And you," Birdie rounded on him. "You take care of my baby." She scooped a pair of goggles from the bench beside her. "One of your interns knocked this up for me in like a day. Kid's got potential. All I said to him was a throwaway comment about how I wanted to keep an eye on this idiot."
"Married 34 years, and she still doesn't trust me."
"Shush." Birdie grabbed the goggles and half placed them, half threw them at his head.
She didn't quite get them on properly. Ripcord grinned and winked at Della.
Birdie waved her electronic pad. The screen showed a very lopsided image of the room around them. "I'll see exactly what my husband sees. So I'll be able to tell him exactly what to do so I can tweak this thing properly and get it finished… and…." she finally turned to Scrooge, "yes, handed over to you so I can get, you know, paid."
"Thank you."
"And you got the cybersecurity I asked for?"
Scrooge rolled his eyes. "Yes. Though I don't see why we need such stringent…"
"Mark Beaks!" Birdie ground out. "That hack has been trying to get his wingtips on my work for years. I don't want him getting any of the data on my plane and…."
"He won't, Mrs McQuack," Scrooge assured her. "Believe me, I've paid enough money for this, and it's taken long enough. I don't like spending money I don't have to, but I understand when insurance is needed."
"Good."
"Well, unless Della wants to ask you anything more, I think we're done and…"
"Actually," said Birdie, chewing her lip. "There was one favour I wanted to ask of you."
Scrooge's expression darkened. "You've asked for enough extensions. If you think you're going to ask for any bonuses…"
"It's not about money," said Birdie quickly.
"Birdie," said Ripcord. "I don't think it's something you should trouble your boss with."
"We've been patient enough. You know he's just going to keep fobbing us off."
"Maybe he's got good reason to."
"What is it?" Scrooge said tersely.
Ripcord folded his arms and looked at the floor.
"You may have figured this out already," said Birdie. "But our son, Launchpad, well he works for you, and…"
"Wait," Della burst out. "You're Launchpad's parents?!"
"Didn't you know that?" said Scrooge. "Come on, Della, they have the same last name." He turned to Birdie. "I was actually beginning to wonder why you hadn't brought him up already."
Della's head spun. Of course, she'd realised the last name was the same. She'd simply thought Launchpad, of all people, would've mentioned his father was Ripcord McQuack. Or… maybe not. Although he'd told her his parents had messaged him, he hadn't said much more. It had only been because they'd got stuck together on the flight to Australia, and Launchpad had been hurt, that he'd even confided in her.
From what Della had gathered, Launchpad's parents hadn't been around for him much. And it hadn't been like they'd been stuck somewhere like, you know, the moon. Della couldn't imagine not doing everything possible to be with her boys as much as possible when they were younger, had she been able, and had decided that the lack of interest in their own son made Launchpad's parents complete jerks.
But Birdie seemed nice, and Ripcord was, well, Ripcord McQuack.
"I know," said Birdie. "But, wait… here…" She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a small wallet. She unfolded it, and it dropped almost to her feet. It took Della a second to realise it contained a bunch of printed photos. Birdie caught it and folded about two-thirds of it back up. "Loopey, Loopey… here!" She shoved the photos at Della tentatively.
Despite the uncomfortable feeling lodged in her gut, Della politely took them. A somehow familiar red-headed kid looked back at her from a high chair, a crib, and then a cardboard box pretend aeroplane. He looked happy. And as she flicked through them, that uncomfortable feeling was replaced by something warm instead. "Aw, he's so… chubby!"
Birdie brightened. "I know!"
"Hang on, hang on…" Della pulled out her phone. She flicked through photos, then shoved it into Birdie's hands. "These are my boys. Dewey wants to be a pilot too. So I've been training him."
"They're adorable."
"Yeah, but… baby Launchpad…." Della could not get over how cute her friend had been. "Do you have any more of these?"
Birdie swallowed and put the photos back into her jacket pocket.
Ripcord put a hand on his wife's shoulder. "We weren't exactly around for him as much as we should have been. After he left home, we didn't see him for a long time. But we've been in contact."
"He… he's said," said Della. "That you were messaging him."
"He's been responsive," said Birdie, "relatively speaking. But he doesn't seem to want to meet up."
Heck, Della knew it had taken Launchpad a whole week to even reply to his parents' first message. Did he really not want to see them? Or was he just scared and second-guessing himself all over again?
"I wanted to ask," said Birdie. "If one of you could speak to him and convince him to come to the airshow? I mean, it's aeroplanes. He's going to want to go. We can meet him there, maybe pretend we just ran into him…. just don't tell him we'll be there."
"Wait, you want me to lie to him?"
"I just don't think he'll come if he knows we'll be there. And I don't know how long it'll take to convince him to see us, if at all."
"And here was I thinking you wanted Ripcord's name left off the run sheet for dramatic effect," Scrooge muttered.
The knot in Della's gut returned. She didn't want to lie to Launchpad. She'd seen how much the idea of talking to his parents had tied him up in knots. But, she was also sure it was something he really did want. After all, it wouldn't have got him so upset if he didn't care. So, maybe he did need a little push.
"I mean," said Ripcord, with a nervous laugh. "I don't think he's going to catch on you've intentionally set something up. I mean… it's Launchpad."
"I'll ask him if he wants to come. I won't directly lie to him. But…" Birdie at least deserved a chance. Della could tell she cared about Launchpad, even though she had been nervous about showing those photos. Della was sure some people didn't think much of her for getting stuck on the moon for a decade, away from her kids. If she'd been in a position where someone could help her, she'd want them to give her a chance too. "I'll see if I can convince him to come. It might not be easy, though. Now that I think about it, he's managed to avoid the Duckburg annual airshow for years."
"What do you mean the Jnr. WoodChuck camping trip is cancelled?!"
"Launchpad…" Emily Hooterman's voice came from Launchpad's mobile phone clamped to his ear. "Please, calm down. I know you enjoy it. And you're always a great help as most other leaders want to go to the Duckburg airshow instead of supervising rowdy children. But, well, that's the problem. We just haven't got the turnout this year. Everyone's parents are taking them to the airshow."
Launchpad paced the McDuck garage in front of Mr McDee's car. No no no. "But Ms H!" he blurted out, reverting to what he'd called his old WoodChuck Leader as a child, "The camping trip is every year, at this time, we can't change it! Why would you change it? I can't… I can't stay here, I…"
"Launchpad," she said, patiently, "You're an adult, remember? You know you can go camping by yourself if you want to."
He could. But somehow, people seemed to accept 'I have a commitment' far more readily than 'I don't actually have anything else to do, I just want to be someplace else.' Especially when it meant avoiding an airshow, which everyone assumed he should like.
"Look, I guess I get it?" Emily continued. "Duckburg gets hectic. There's so much traffic. And the constant overhead noise is just really irritating. But, aren't you a pilot for Scrooge McDuck, as well as his chauffeur now? I know its not cargo planes, but you sill might enjoy the airshow."
Why did everyone think he had to enjoy airshows? "Look, thanks for letting me know the trip is cancelled," Launchpad said instead. "I'll… figure out what I'm doing." He hung up before she could respond or say goodbye. Then felt a little guilty. It wasn't Emily's fault everyone wanted to go to the stupid thing.
"Wait, did I hear that right? Did your WoodChuck trip get cancelled?" Dewey stood in the door to the garage, a grin slowly spreading across his beak. Launchpad could see the air swelling in his chest and the excitement winding up inside his friend, and then Dewey finally let it all out. "That means you can come to the airshow with me!"
Launchpad groaned. He sunk down with his back against Mr McDee's car and put his face in his hands.
"LP? Are you okay?" He heard the scuff on the concrete as Dewey slid down beside him, and then his friend squeezed his arm. "What's wrong?"
Launchpad lifted his head. "Dewey, I… I… I don't actually want to go to an airshow." The words, which had seemed something he couldn't actually say to anyone, were suddenly out there.
"I got that. But why? You love aeroplanes. And flying."
"Yeah, but I don't like airshows." Launchpad wanted to explain it. So much. He should've been able to, especially to his best friend. Even what he'd been able to share with Della hadn't been much and was only because she'd caught him in a vulnerable spot, and he'd blurted out his parents were messaging him. It had been kind of nice to tell someone something. But he hadn't really wanted to. He'd been in too much pain, desperate for any connection, and Della had been the one there. At least afterwards, she seemed to understand where his boundaries were.
Even if his parents hadn't. They'd been bugging him to see them for weeks. He'd only just got comfortable texting and occasionally talking to them on the phone. Couldn't they just be happy with that? Airshows reminded Launchpad too much of his dad. And watching them on tv, at home, alone. At least then, he'd gotten to see a bit of his father. Happy, at least. Instead of fighting with Mom. The contact from his parents had only dredged up the bad feelings he held, and he'd been looking forward to getting away from Duckburg for a few days.
"Is this why you don't want to go?" Dewey pulled out a creased flyer and held it out.
Launchpad took it with a sigh, but he already knew what would be on it. The second reason he avoided airshows. Not that that was entirely for his own benefit. Below the fancy new aeroplane McDuck industries were showing off was a name that stared tauntingly back at him.
"Loopey McQuack," said Dewey. "I saw her last year. She was terrific. Is she… I mean… the name…"
"She's my little sister."
"Launchpad! Why didn't you tell me... don't you want to see her fly?"
"Of course I do. It's just… I don't think she'd want to see me. It'd be awkward."
"Did you two not get on or something?"
"No, not my little sister. It's not that we didn't get on. It's just that… I guess we never really got a chance to hit it off."
"Launchpad, what happened? Why don't you want to see her?"
Launchpad gulped. "Dewey, not every family is like yours. Not every parent is as great as your Mom. And I get now that mine were struggling, and I get it's hard when you don't have a lot of money. And I was so mad at them… but they'd started to try, especially when Loopey came along they were trying, but…." He drew a deep breath. "But then I had to go and screw it all up."