Christopher was close with the sequel, but it is actually from the very end of Daedalus. Your quote, Xeris.
Yes!! Here goes: "He saved all of us," she said. "It's only in the past few weeks that our shipmates started dying again. He kept all of us alive all those months. When we were starving, somehow he found food. When we were out of power, somehow he traded or bought power. When we needed medical supplies, he beamed down to a swamp planet by himself and collection botanical substitutes. He was sick for months after that. But he smiled all the time because he knew he'd done it for us..."
^Since I won't be around today, and no one is guessing, I'll leave you a big clue. It's a Voyager novel. If no one guesses correctly by the time I return to my computer this evening (BST), I will give one more clue that should let everyone get it.
Given the hero worship and the fact that it's a woman talking, could it be the novelization of Equinox, with Marla Gilmore talking about Ransom?
Allright, here goes. I'm not sure how easy this one will be, but it's rather long so I'll give it a shot... “Orions . . . they never come out this far. I guess the prize was worth it.” Linda Battersey stared at the tiny sensor screen on the Orion transponder. Ugly blue blips crawled swiftly toward them at a speed they could never challenge. “Look, Mr. Chekov, I’m a great ferry captain. I can move anything from here to anyplace else. I can tow, lead, pilot, chart, load, trim, rig, and raft with the best of them, but I’ve never been in a battle in my whole career. Every transit’s always been in protected, patrolled space. I don’t have the first idea how to deal with Orions!” Having no way to empathize with a private captain after spending his entire life in Starfleet, Chekov barely kept himself from an insulting shrug. “Put up your shields, keep your narrow profile to them, and always be moving.” “According to my license, I can’t relinquish command to you.” “I don’t want command,” he chafed. “If I take it, I can’t go around freely. I’m your tactical advis—” “My crew’s never done this before!” He took her arm. “I will help you. Go, go!” Good luck!
Well, that didn't take long. I'm re-reading Wagon Train for the umpteenth time now, and Chekov taking command of the Impeller following the exchange above remains one of my favorite parts of the story. Next one, please...
Christine Vale simply stood there, realizing that what Lenmar had said was the absolute truth. This wasn't security, not the way she knew it. Sure, she knew that it was always best to know that the people on your ship were all the people who were supposed to be there, but this? "Witch hunt" was exactly what she'd been set on. But you have to do it, Christine, she tried to tell herself. If you don't, he'll just get Kyril instead when he finally gets around to it. And Kyril won't be strong enough.
Sorry 'bout that, Keith. At one time, Admiral Forrest could differentiate among the various types of headaches that had always plagued him. There were those caused by stress or muscle tension or too little sleep, for example. Then there was the newer variety of discomfort he experienced on increasingly frequent occasions, invoked whenever he read one of Jonathan Archer's more colorful status reports from the Enterprise. These days, however, Forrest divided his headaches into only two categories: those caused by Ambassador Soval, and the rest of them; and Soval's score was growing at an exponential rate.