It turned out that even in wartime, people's joys and sorrows didn't always align. Some people had only wanted to sit out the fighting, yet had been pushed back to the front lines, while others could swagger back from the front and begin their hard-won vacation.
For instance, the men and women of the Thirteenth Fleet were in high spirits. After a whole winter of intense combat, even the most battle-hardened, bold, or downright war-loving among them had nearly reached their limits in stamina and energy. They were naturally looking forward to this brief respite. So the entire fleet seemed like the only one in the galaxy traveling against the flow: as they repeatedly passed allied warships surging in from every direction, they had already begun humming songs about their triumphant return.
If Makarov and Eleanor hadn't been watching them, someone would probably have started making hot pot aboard ship.
Of course, they were allowed to relax a little. Hadn't the flagship's gunnery officer already pulled out her magic box and started playing games? So Major General Makarov ordered the crew to bring out the last of the liquor in the supply hold and distribute it among everyone.
"Think of it as making up for the New Year we missed. During those few days, we chased two raider ships through four or five star systems, and no one complained. We've been fighting for so long. The crew deserve a chance to unwind." The old general said this to his young "deputy."
Brigadier General Eleanor Bonaparte, whose title was "deputy" but who was, in truth, the actual commander, naturally couldn't object. The fleet's remaining liquor amounted to less than a hundred milliliters per person, and they'd dilute it with water, so there was no need to worry about the crew drinking