"I need a break," says Donald, while Launchpad sprints back to the plane. "I'm on leave from the Navy anyway, you can imagine that I just don't have the nerve for this crap anymore."
"I can only imagine that you're looking for the usual excuses, nephew," grumbles Scrooge and shrugs his shoulders. "Well, coins would be polished enough."
Donald breathes a sigh of relief. But not for long.
"You're helping Launchpad with a test flight! You can learn a lot from him, believe me!"
"Greetings, Mr. McQuack," sighs Donald. "Is your plane ready?"
"Sure," nods Launchpad. "But I have to say, Mr. Duck, you usually look just as, well, dirty as your uncle. Must run in the family."
"Thanks," grumbles Donald.
"Well, you do your job somehow," laughs Launchpad. "That's nothing to be embarrassed about. Believe me, you are perfect the way you are, not the way others are.
"Yes, thank you, that's nice," Donald murmurs. But he still doesn't really like him, this pelican. Muscles, a foot taller, always nice and in a good mood and, even worse, he wears shoes.
"Tell me, Donald," says Launchpad as he climbs up the ladder, "don't you think old planes are great?"
"Hm, yes," Donald can't deny, "I've just never been allowed to fly myself. Only boring helicopters."
"Yeah, that's nothing," nods Launchpad. "This is my life. It also shows that you can do great things in life with, well, not so great grades at school."
"Then you're no different from me," Donald admits, "but I've had so many jobs in the last few years that I can't count them anymore. I'm glad I'm in the Navy."
"Yes, you can tell," nods Launchpad. "I, on the other hand, am glad that I left school so long ago. I got A's in everything, except for PE."
"Don't tell me," says Donald, choking as he sits down in the co-pilot's seat. "That was my favorite subject. I had to repeat a year twice because of that crap."
"Me too," sighs Launchpad, starting the engine. "Oh yeah, music wasn't so bad either. My father used to play the saxophone in a band, and I learned that too."
"Ah, OK," admits Donald, watching Launchpad's actions with interest. "I learned to play the guitar from my grandpa at a very early age, which grandma thought was pretty good. Uncle Scrooge less so, but he liked my twin sister Della better anyway. Well, I was a freak anyway. I still am today, I still have the guitar from back then. Maybe the nephews want to learn too. You know Huey, Dewey and Louie, right?"
"Sure," grins Launchpad. "They really like me too. I hope you're buckled up."
"Oh yes," says Donald, looking at Launchpad's seat. "You'd better buckle yourself up too."
Launchpad just grins, but he doesn't feel like it this time. Is he already that forgetful? Oh dear…
"Well," changes the subject again. "That band wasn't bad actually. My dad played there too when he was on the ground, but when my little sister Loopey was born he quit and concentrated only on flying. As well as the saxophone I also learned the piano and accordion. I even made a bit of money that way."
"Really?" Donald raises an eyebrow.
"Yeah, Mom gave me a dollar everytime I finally stopped playing."
Donald laughs. "Well, then I can only pray that I never have to play you…"
Then the laughter quickly stops. It is also drowned out by the engines. They take off into the skies!
And it happens as it must. Launchpad misses the opening and tears down the roof of the hangar.
Donald sighs. What has he gotten himself into?
After taking a deep breath the plane is over Duckburg and circling the money bin.
"What do you say, Donald?" asks . "It's nice here, isn't it?"
"Nice, but next time with a different pilot," complains Donald. "Right at the start you almost killed us both! You really are a crash pilot!"
"Yes, that's what everyone calls me," laughs Launchpad. "But now you should enjoy the view."
"Mate, we're not here for fun," replies Donald seriously. "Uncle Scrooge asked me to analyze the plane. Well, I'll show him how much I'm worth."
"Yes, I know the doubts," says Launchpad, now a little more serious. "I always felt loved by my parents, but they still try to find fault with me. They were always complaining that I wasn't intelligent enough or that I was dangerous. But well, everyone is different, at least the complaints were never aggressive or anything like that, everything was peaceful. I don't know if I'll ever have children, but what I would avoid is shouting, but I would definitely be more honest than my parents, I would praise when there was something to praise, and when I was disappointed, I would say so without sugarcoating it. Good relationships and understanding are both important."
"Yes, I really agree with you…" admits Donald quite calmly, only to change his tone again. "YOU MORON, ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND!? WE ALMOST GOT HIT."
"Yes, I've been put down a lot in life," sighs Launchpad. "It hurts a bit, but oh well."
"It's still better than falling apart!" complains Donald.
Launchpad doesn't let that put him off. "Well, despite everything, I'm still in contact with my parents. They're colleagues, and despite all the difficulties, I'm not like that. I hope they become grandparents in their lifetime, that would be nice." He lowers the altitude. "What about your parents, actually?"
"Well, the good thing was that there was less moaning and swearing," says Donald. "But unfortunately I didn't feel loved. I was more at home with Dad's mother, Grandma Elvira. Whenever I saw them, Mom and Dad were always arguing. They never hugged me, that didn't happen."
"Not even a goodnight kiss?" asks Launchpad, astonished.
Donald shakes his head. "I also went to see my Uncle Eider, Dad's big brother. He wasn't bad and I learned to bake cakes from him, but he was always making jokes that nobody found funny. Unfortunately, his son Fethry learned this attitude from him. I don't know if I can really enjoy my family."
Launchpad now seems a little dejected. Yes, you should be happy sometimes. You don't have a choice. He also had difficulties that he had to overcome.
"Do you have any nephews?" asks Donald.
"No, you don't, and no niece either," mumbles Launchpad. He is not like the typical Duckburg resident who has to be an uncle or nephew! "I'd like to have children before I'm too old. As old as you, maybe..."
"Launchpad!" Donald is definitely not joking. "The nerve! I'm not even thirty!"
"But close," grins Launchpad. "Although, I'm already over it. But just barely. But I don't think you're any younger. How old are you really?"
"A year older than my last birthday," grumbles Donald. "But still young."
"But old enough that you have children who are about nine years old," says Launchpad triumphantly.
"They're my nephews."
"Your twin sister's children. And she was born after you, wasn't she?"
"Yes, 13 minutes or so…"
Maths! That's too much for Launchpad. He's up there, and it's OK to be scared, it's a queasy feeling, but not for Launchpad. He's not scared of anything, but math… no!
He glances at Donald's pad.
"How do you deal with numbers?"
"Well," says Donald somewhat dishonestly, "I'll manage somehow, anything is doable."
This answer doesn't convince the pilot. Donald admits defeat.
"I'd say I'll pretend the whole thing is... GUY, BE CAREFUL!"
When things have calmed down again and the flight is coming to an end, Donald has another question.
"Do you know Della?"
"She's Huey, Dewey and Louie's mother, right?"
"Yes, my little sister. Unfortunately, she was completely missing for nine years." Donald's eyes moisten. "I shouldn't have let her into space."
Launchpad puts his right hand on Donald's shoulder while he steers the plane with his left hand, even though he's right-handed.
"How's it going with love? Not much with me, although I've looked at a woman in the gym sometimes. No wonder with my body, but with you..."
Donald looks grim again. "Daisy is the same as always. No different from how your family is with you, just much more dishonest. Accuses me of constantly having outbursts of anger. Is that true!?" He looks even grimmer. What would Daisy say if she were there.
Launchpad tries to suppress a laugh. "No, it's fine. I think you need to fly more often. It's therapy for children, but since we're, well, about the same age and I'm definitely still a child at heart, I'm sure you can be too."
"You're right again," Donald admits. But should he really fly again soon? Shouldn't he ask the Navy to release him from his vacation?