I am far from an expert on anything ocean and ship related, so there's a decent chance that I have some flawed logic and terminology in here. I did the best I could, though!

I do not own the Thunderbirds, and I am making no profit from this story.

Chapter One

Gordon set aside his fishing rod and wiped sweat from his face before turning to root around in his ice chest for a cold bottle of water. Although it wasn't even nine o'clock in the morning, the sun was already hot, and it would only get hotter throughout the day. He glanced toward a nearby island – not Tracy Island, but a much smaller one in the same chain – and thought that when he got hungry for lunch, maybe he'd pull up on the beach and find some shade under the trees.

The azure water sparkled all around him in the morning sunlight, and his boat rocked slightly in the gentle waves. Just a Monday off with a boat and the Pacific – all he could ask for, right? Still, he sighed as he looked around – there was just one more thing that would have made this the perfect day. He opened up a communications link on his watch. "Hey, Alan, you don't know what you're missing out on," he said.

There was a metallic clang and a slight hiss of pain before Alan answered out loud, "On the contrary, I know exactly what I'm missing out on – a sunburn! And a long time sitting in a boat, catching an occasional fish that you'll just make me throw back anyway! No thanks – I'm perfectly happy here in the air-conditioning, working on my Camaro."

"You going to paint flames on it?" Gordon asked. He glanced down at his arms and winced, reaching for the sunscreen. Alan was right about the sunburn, anyway…

"Nah, the original paint's in good shape, and it's a rare color. It's better to leave it as is. So no one else wanted to go with you either?"

Gordon shrugged. "You know Scott – unless it's big, exciting fish like sharks or tuna, he's not interested. Virgil's in a piano mood, and Johnny's not here." Virgil or John would sometimes tag along if Gordon gave them puppy dog eyes for long enough, although they didn't usually participate in the actual fishing. Virgil would bring along a sketch pad and John a book. Alan was more like Scott – he got antsy if there wasn't plenty of action.

"Well, tell Grandma to call me if she wants me to bring any fish home for dinner," Gordon started to say, then trailed off, distracted by movement along the edge of the island. As the object of his attention came fully into his sight, he suddenly laughed in pure delight. "Hey, Al, you're actually missing out on plenty this time," he said. "You'll never believe what I'm seeing right now!"

"What? What is it?" Alan demanded.

"A replica eighteenth-century galleon," Gordon breathed, feasting his eyes on the beautiful ship gliding his way. "The Sea Bird," he added, as she came close enough for him to read her name. He snorted as he noticed one particular detail. "Huh – she's flying the Jolly Roger. Not sure if that's cool or stupid, but it does make her look like a real pirate ship! I think the crew might even be in period costumes."

The crew had spotted him, and to his surprise, they seemed to be going out of their way to approach him.

"Hey, I think they're coming over to say hi," Gordon said. "I'll catch you later, Al!"

"All right, have fun," Alan said. "Careful they don't try to shanghai you!"

"Right," Gordon snorted. "See ya!" He broke the connection.

A deep voice boomed across the water. "Ahoy, there!"

Gordon grinned and waved. "Ahoy, yourself," he called back. "Beautiful ship you've got there!" He had to tilt his head back as the multi-decked, three-masted galleon drew gradually closer and finally glided alongside him, dropping anchor with a splash.

A man wearing a huge, feathered hat leaned over the gunwale far above Gordon's head. "Care to come aboard, young man? I'm on a pleasure cruise, and half the pleasure is in showing off my ship!"

"I'd love to!" Gordon said.

A moment later, a rope ladder came tumbling down toward him; he caught the end and quickly climbed aboard, vaulting neatly over the gunwale onto the deck.

The man with the feathered hat greeted him with a hearty handshake. "Captain Bloom, at your service," he said.

"Gordon Tracy," Gordon replied, returning the handshake.

Some strange expression flickered briefly across the captain's face, before hiding behind a benevolent smile. "Ah, you must come from Tracy Island, then. One of the famous Jeff Tracy's sons, I presume?"

Gordon smiled easily, long accustomed to people knowing exactly who his father was. "That's right."

"And if I recall correctly, you won an Olympic Gold for swimming a few years ago…I take it your interest in the water extends to boats and ships as well?" Captain Bloom queried, gesturing to Gordon's boat, a carefully restored antique wooden speedboat.

"Yes, sir," Gordon replied. "We've got a few nice boats and yachts on the island, but nothing anywhere near as beautiful as this one. I'm not sure I've ever seen a better replica."

"Well, how would you like a quick tour?"

"That'd be fantastic," Gordon said. "That is, as long as it's not an imposition."

"No, no imposition at all," the captain replied. "As I said before, it's a pleasure to show her off."

They started walking, Captain Bloom keeping up a running commentary. Gordon let the man's words flow over him, too polite to mention that he didn't exactly need the beginners' version of the tour. Though he'd never had hands-on experience with such an old-fashioned ship, he'd done enough studying to know his way around fairly well.

As they made their way through the galleon, a few odd things caught Gordon's attention. First, he realized that Bloom actually didn't seem to know much about the ship – he glossed over a lot of the details that normally would have been part of a tour, and when Gordon asked specific questions, a blank look usually flitted across Bloom's face before he ad-libbed something or changed the subject.

Second, the crew was not only a lot fewer in number than Gordon would have expected for a fully-functioning galleon, but they clearly weren't taking very good care of the ship. The billowing sails, which had been breathtaking from a distance, were in rather poor repair when viewed from a closer vantage point, and they were not in the ideal position for the wind conditions. The decks were dirty, the knots poorly tied, and the brass needed to be polished.

Finally, there was the matter of the persistent vibration that Gordon could feel through his feet. "Is she – does she have…engines?" he finally asked, unable to hold back the question any longer.

Captain Bloom chuckled. "Perceptive, aren't you?" he said, although somehow it didn't come out sounding like a compliment. "Yeah, she's retrofitted with some real dandy equipment. After all, we sometimes like to move a little faster than seven or eight knots!"

The captain wouldn't let Gordon see the engines, though, insisting that he didn't want to ruin the authentic feel of the ship for his guest. In fact, he very deliberately steered Gordon away from several doors and passageways.

Eventually they made their way back up to the main deck. Gordon was almost glad that it was time to leave, although he was careful to hide his feelings. He thought that he might have to do some research on this ship and its captain once he got back to the island – he couldn't quite put his finger on it, but there was definitely something strange going on aboard the Sea Bird.

A crewman suddenly hurried up to the captain. With a glance toward Gordon, he told Bloom, "He's the real deal, all right – he's definitely Jeff Tracy's kid. The scanners don't show any other boats in the area, so there's no risk of interference, but he's got some kind of a radio in his watch that his family can probably use to track him."

"So we'll have to lose the watch, then," Bloom said calmly. He turned toward Gordon. "All right, Gordon, tour's over. You are now our prisoner. Hand over your watch."

Gordon stood frozen for a split second, unable to believe what he was hearing. As it began to register, though, he whipped around to make a break for the rope ladder – only to skid to a halt as a group of several men stepped forward to block his way.

He turned back toward Bloom. "What is this?" he demanded angrily.

Bloom shrugged. "You saw the Skull and Crossbones flag, I'm sure. Well, we're really pirates. We stole this ship a couple weeks ago in the hopes that it would help us get close to high-profile targets." He grinned, his eyes cold. "The plan is to invite them aboard, make them think they're getting the tour of a lifetime – and then rob them blind. In your case, since you don't have anything of value with you, we'll just have to see if your rich daddy can spare a few dollars in exchange for your release."

"Oh yeah?" Gordon snapped. "We'll see about that!"

Gordon launched himself forward and downed Bloom with one solid punch to the jaw. The crewman who had been speaking with Bloom stepped toward Gordon, fists raised, but Gordon stopped him short with a kick to the gut.

The rest of the crew surged forward, clearly hoping to subdue him by sheer force of numbers. What they didn't count on, however, was Gordon's expertise in dodging – brought on largely by a lifetime of running away from brothers he'd just pranked. Gordon wove his way through the group of men, ducking under swinging arms and tripping one assailant. He staggered slightly when an elbow caught him in the mouth and split his lip, sending blood dripping down his front, but he didn't let that stop him. He made it a couple more steps before a hand caught hold of his collar; he simply twisted completely out of the half-buttoned shirt and was free again.

Leaping onto the railing, he stood poised for a split second, calculating a dive trajectory that wouldn't break his neck, but then someone made a grab for him and knocked him off balance. He teetered on the edge, nearly falling, before multiple hands seized him and dragged him back onto the ship. Kicking his legs out from under him, the men slammed him down onto the deck and twisted his arms behind his back.

Bloom stormed up, sporting a bruise on his jaw, his face red with fury. "Nobody gets away with hitting me – nobody!" he shouted. He drew back his foot and kicked Gordon in the ribs.

Gordon bit back a yelp of pain and tried to jerk free, but his captors kept him tightly pinned down.

One man leapt up and pulled Bloom away before he could kick Gordon again, talking fast. "Hey, Bloom, keep it together, man – we need him in decent shape, or maybe Tracy won't pay up!"

Someone tugged the watch off Gordon's wrist and handed it to Bloom, who had managed to calm himself down at the mention of money.

"Right," Bloom said. "I'll leave the watch and a note for his daddy in his boat. You lot, tie him up and prepare for departure." He scooped something up from the deck and disappeared down the rope ladder.

"You won't get away with this," Gordon snapped as the men dragged him to his feet and marched him across the deck. "When my dad and brothers find me, you're all gonna wish you had never been born!" He winced as they shoved him against the main mast and pulled his arms behind it, tying his wrists together.

Most of the crew dispersed, ignoring Gordon. After a minute, Bloom climbed back on board, pulling the rope ladder up and leaving it in an untidy heap on the deck.

"You hear that, Bloom?" Gordon shouted, straining against his bonds. A distant part of his brain pointed out that shouting wouldn't solve anything, but he was too angry to care. His brothers always said that it took a lot for Gordon's temper to explode, but when it did, the whole island knew about it. "You don't know who you're messing with!" He forced himself to lower his voice a couple notches. "You let me go right now, and maybe – just maybe – my family will go a little easier on you. Otherwise, you're in for more trouble than you can even imagine!"

Bloom approached him, eyes glittering with malice. "Yeah, like I'd be scared of a bunch of pretty boy rich guys," he sneered. He nodded toward a crewman. "Gag him, will you, Marco?"

Marco deftly avoided a few kicks as he slapped a strip of duct tape over Gordon's mouth, silencing the redhead's dire invectives.

With the power of speech taken away from him, Gordon settled for glaring as fiercely as possible at every crewman who came within his field of vision. They didn't seem particularly bothered, and not for the first time Gordon wished he could figure out how Scott's glare affected people so much more than his did.

The throbbing of the engines increased in volume, and a gentle breeze wafted over Gordon as the ship picked up speed. As they left the island behind, the full weight of the situation seemed to settle down on Gordon's shoulders – he had been kidnapped, and it would probably be hours before his family discovered that he was missing. Once they found out, they would begin searching immediately, but how would they track him down with his watch gone? The Pacific was a big place when one was looking for a single ship!

Suddenly feeling weary and hopeless, he wiggled his way down the mast until he was sitting on the deck, grimacing as his joints and muscles protested the strange position of his arms.

It was up to him, he realized suddenly, straightening his shoulders. Maybe his family could pull some sort of a rabbit out of a hat and find him on their own, but more likely, Gordon himself would be the key element of his own rescue. He'd have to keep on his toes and be ready to take any opportunity either to escape or to signal his family. Feeling more confident with a tiny bit of a plan in place, he smirked as he leaned back against the mast. In pitting themselves against Gordon Tracy and his family, the crew of the Sea Bird really had no idea what they were getting themselves into.