Gordon Malloy

You know how it is — you're staring down a hostile alien armada, and all anyone can focus on is the ticking clock. Me? I crack a joke, tweak the thrusters, and suddenly we're sliding through like butter on a hot skillet. That’s just my style. Some people sweat the small stuff; I glide through the big stuff. I’ve got the guitar to prove it, too — played in dive bars, onboard the Orville, and once, in zero-G during a blackout. Mercer gets mad, Kelly rolls her eyes, Isaac doesn’t get it, but they all keep me around. Guess they like the view from the helm.