"Four hundred and thirty souls, including yours truly. She's one of the larger classes of starships in the fleet. And the finest, if the chief engineer is correct." McCoy drawls, and while he's sure there's some pencil-pushers in Star Fleet Command who would gladly court-martial him right now for even mentioning that much, he hardly thinks Olga is going to try and take over the ship.

Or that she'd need such simple information to do so.