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Sometimes Teleya wakes with Humans on her mind -- representatives of the Planetary Union. Soulless devils wearing the skins of her brother's shipmates, who showed up at her door, and she had let them in. Had let them near the children she had been tasked with protecting and nurturing. Every time she thinks about it, a shudder goes through her, fear settling in her gut.
Others didn't understand.
Those who advocated that other lifeforms had souls told her confidently that the reason she had trusted the foreign agents was because Humans were no different from Krill. But that explanation never rung true for her -- it was a lie, a desperate rationalization. Only the purifiers truly understood. Only they voiced the anger and violation she felt on the inside; only they understood the utter horror at letting danger in through the front door.
When she isn't angry, all Teleya feels is guilt -- guilt at having been fooled, at having foolishly endangered the children, at having betrayed all the crewmen who died that day, while she, too trusting, had survived. The only thing that distracts her from the suffocating guilt is anger. Rage feels productive, cleansing. Someday, other Krill will feel it too.