Tarlac wasn't glad to find it was right. That meant that even more than the chance of peace rode on his survival of this Ordeal. Damn! Tarlac thought the word with vehement intensity, but didn't say it aloud. It wasn't fair! A race's extinction should not depend on one man, especially one who wasn't at all sure of his own ability to survive!
Clearly, he could no longer afford such doubts. So, think of something else for now.
Okay. He'd already begun to see how complex the Traiti were, much more so than the Empire suspected. The Empire's knowledge was limited to these people's savage ferocity—or what seemed like savage ferocity. The war had exploded suddenly and simply: a scoutship exploring about 150 parsecs coreward from Irschcha had fallen silent. A rescue ship sent to check on the scout had had time to describe its attackers before it was destroyed as well. The third ship was the Emperor Chang, a battle cruiser which survived its Traiti attack and brought word that, like it or not, the Empire was at war with an unreasoning enemy. Traiti hostility was long proven, but Tarlac could no longer believe it was unreasoning.
"Hovan—why did your people attack that first scout, ten years ago? I feel certain it didn't give any deliberate provocation."
"I cannot fully say, since I have not the tapes seen. We knew not that its intention peaceful was. You should the Supreme ask, when you him see. But this much all know: an alien ship suddenly over a new-landed homeship was, a possible danger to females and younglings. It responded not to challenge, and visual contact obscene horror showed." Claws flickered briefly on one hand, then Hovan continued. "Our guard-ship the only way it could reacted. That we since learned a mistake was, but too late."
"Most of that I understand, I think, but I'll take your advice and ask to see the tapes." No wonder the Traiti had acted as they had. Their hyperdrive at the time had been slow to transition; when an Imperial ship appeared within seconds, it was only natural that they'd interpret it as a threat. And scoutships were armed—had to be—so that even if the ship hadn't tried to attack, it was obviously not harmless. The Traiti had challenged instead of firing instantly at the invader, and the challenge, not understood, had been ignored. So the colony's guard-ship acted. "Damn! What a waste! One misunderstanding led to— Oh, hell!" Tarlac stared at the deck, scarcely aware of his surroundings.
When he looked up, Hovan's green eyes were appraising him. "If that you disturbs, let it not. They would have anyway fired, I think."
Tarlac recalled the unexplained factor. "The obscene horror. What was that? What could be so bad it'd cause that kind of a reaction?"
"Females on a ship that might have into battle gone. No race insane enough to that allow…" Hovan shook his head. "We have since learned that you so many females have that it not insane for you is, but it still unacceptable to most of us is. For us, a female in unnecessary danger to place, the death penalty earns. One who actual harm on a female inflicts, unless in self-defense, his clan full dishonor brings. That one also dies, in public at his Clan Mother's claws, the clan's honor to restore. Then he buried is, not to the Lords presented. See you now?"
That was quite a taboo, Tarlac thought, taken aback, but why—? He was beginning to put things together: paintings of Madonnas, humans having "so many" females… "How much of your race is female?"