AN: Thanks to those who reviewed. I hope to make this series somewhat logical and realistic. Given the premise, that's tricky. But many of the issues faced in the series were done too simplistically, so I wanted to add the realistic complexity of some of the problems that needed to be solved.

If you knew me as anything, you would think me Gaia.

The Domain of Men have come up with many ways to explain me. Some closer than others. Some have thought that I am the spirit of the Earth itself.

Those that know me as that name, as that concept; say that the Earth is a living organism, with me as its own soul, its own spirit. In reality, it's not quite that simple. I am what the Mystics know as Gaia, what the scholars know as Ecology. Every living thing is a part of the whole, the animals and plants different like skin cells and blood cells of a human; different parts of the same being.

The humans say; that millions of years ago, there was a sudden and unprecedented explosion of life. Religions, shamans, scientists...they all have different reasons and explanations, but they agree on the result. I can vouch for it. I was born that day.

I live. I am one with many parts, and those parts all seek the same thing; that of life.

The humans say that they are Masters of the earth. They did not always say that. At first they understood. The thought that they were part of me, not above me. But I am old; and they are young. I have lived for aeons, and their years are seventy or eighty.

The things they did in less than three hundred years...

There is a reason why you have not known my horror and anger till now; for what are three or four centuries to me? I rest, making changes where they are needed to maintain order, and a sudden spike of pain and corruption goes through me in a seeming instant. It takes but a moment to focus my gaze smaller, slower, moving into the time the way you do, not with the beats of the millennia, but with the ticks of a clock, and I am left staggered at how fast it all came apart.

In three hundred years they destroy the work of aeons. It is beyond even my comprehension. But even so, they are a part of my Domain, and they are most wonderful in some of the positive things they can do. They have knowledge but not understanding.

But I am many parts. I cannot allow all to be destroyed for a greed that will never be satisfied.

You cannot touch anything of mine without doing some harm. Life is powerful, life is patient, and life is above all resilient. But it is not by any means unbeatable. For every force of destruction, there must be creation.

When a volcano explodes, the lava settles and cools, becoming fertile ground and soil for lush life to grow.

When a forest burns, the undergrowth is burned out with it, and new plants, their roots hidden safely below the ground, have room to push up, to find their way to live, and grow in their own right.

When a wave washes away the rock, that rock is worn down and becomes part of the ocean floor, which grows outward. Nothing is destroyed by my touch, only moved or transformed. Destruction is the first movement of creation.

There is too much destruction for there to be balance. And for this reason, action must be taken.

My Domain demands of me, and I give. My Domain feeds me with it's life and it's beauty, and I am nourished.

I am not God. My force extends only to the Earth, and the great universe was here long before the Earth alone. I too wonder what came before me. I too look to the stars and wonder at the marvels of creation beyond my reach. This one world travels at great speed through an immense nothing, held in an infinite place by invisible bonds of gravity, which even I cannot perceive; though I know it's there.

But my realm is not beyond the sky, it is the billion trillion woven strands of life that exists beneath those stars.

And now there is too much poison, too much destruction. I cannot breath clearly, I cannot feel the sun on my skin, and my food is unpalatable because of toxins. I am diminished.

I am alive because life can to be within me. But over aeons, before time was measured as time, I have been dealt blows, fire and cold enough to make me dormant.

But never before has this pain come from my own. Never before from my own children. They have become too hungry, too harsh and too many. They are the first of my children to demand more as a species than I can give them.

I cried out in pain to my own whole, begging it to show me an answer. How am I to fix this? I cannot harm my own children, even to save my Domain... can I?

And the answer came. They caused this. Not me. I am not to blame. I am not responsible; so it is not for me to fix it.

My Domain is vast and stretches thousands of miles, woven tightly in layers many fathoms deep. I see all that is done; all that is within my realm. It has been some time since I have had to search for singular beings, have to sift through the many that have no understanding. The humans have forgotten much in thousands of years.

The Power must come from them; if they are to change. But their years are seventy or eighty. It is such a tight balance to find one open to things they cannot quantify, but also with maturity enough to understand.

The blame is theirs. The presumption is theirs. The arrogance is theirs. So the responsibility must be theirs.

The power must be theirs.

I follow where my spirit moves me, for I too am only one part of the great living organism. I am one part among many, and I am many parts of the whole. I was drawn to look inside myself, beneath my surface, just under my skin.

Kwame.

He is important.

Kwame studied the rock wall before him, looking by the small torch light mounted on his helmet. He found a good spot and swung the pick-axe into the rock with even methodical movements. He kept his actions slow and steady. It was labor intensive work; and he didn't want to wear himself out.

Jack-hammers could be brought in to break off sections of the rock, but not until it had a bit to work with. He needed to make an opening for it.

Being at the very end of the tunnel as it was dug was always the most dangerous spot. You never knew what the new ground would do. It could easily grow weaker unexpectedly and cave in on you.

Kwame had volunteered. His father had founded the mine, and the company that mined it. No matter what happened, it was likely that he had a managerial position ahead of him in a nice air conditioned office. The workers all knew it, and knew they would be working for him one day, so Kwame wanted to do some of the hardest heaviest work in his youth; if only to gain respect for what others in the Mine would do.

Nevertheless, his position as son of the founder did cause some friction, and at times put responsibility on his shoulders. This day was to be one of those times. His friend, Matali came over to the Mine. "Kwame, may I speak to you for a moment?"

"Sure Matali."

"I was talking to some of the others... they say we have been digging for a long time, without finding anything."

"We've had to dig new veins before."

"Yeah, but we haven't found anything." Matali pointed out. "We've been digging any deeper over in Tunnel nine. Lots of branches, and none of them more than twenty feet."

Kwame blinked. "Why is that?"

"We don't know. None of us do... and that, brings us, to you."

"Why me?"

"You're close with Mr Maliik."

"My father was close with Mr Maliik." Kwame corrected. In truth, he was also, but Kwame wanted to avoid the appearance of preferential treatment.

"But still..." Matali said. "You'd have a better time of asking him about it than any of us. I mean... he likes you. He's gone out of his way to help you out."

Kwame looked uncertain. "Matali, you know how hard I have tried to avoid favoritism. Calling in personal favors..."

"We aren't asking you to do anything you don't feel comfortable doing. But none of us would think less of you for this. Because while we're looking, we can pick up extra shifts for all the new tunnels. But if someone up in management decides to give up and admit there nothing there... If this mine closes, we lose our jobs, and... Kwame, we need work."

"I know."

"Your father built this place. You have the chance for a future that my kids will not have. The guys all like you Kwame. You could have taken a job in the air conditioned offices, but you came down here because you wanted to earn it; wanted to be fair... Kwame, you would have somewhere to go if this place folds. We don't. We're getting worried. We're a Copper mine that doesn't produce any Copper. It doesn't take a paid scholarship in a good business school to know that we could all be in serious trouble here. Do you see where I'm coming from?"

Kwame took a slow breath. "I understand. Matali, tell them I will talk to him today."

"Thank you." Matali gave him a mock look of ferocity. "Now back to work!"

Kwame chuckled as he left and turned back to the stone. He hauled off and swung again. He sunk his pick axe into the rock. When he pulled it back for the next swing, something glinted off his helmet torchlight.

Kwame paused and looked at the tip of his pickaxe. It was... a ring?

Kwame pulled the ring off and looked at it carefully. The Ring was undamaged by his pick, and it gleamed brightly. The band was a pure golden metal, and the jewel on top was a deep rich green. Either carved into the jewel, or into the setting beneath it, was a rune or symbol of some kind.

Kwame swung his helmet light back up to the stone wall. The ring had been in there? Hundreds of feet below the surface, deep in the solid rock, was a flawless and completely undamaged ring?

Kwame had been studying geology and mining techniques and metals and precious stones his whole life, and knew nothing like this ring.

"Hey Kwame!" Someone yelled from up the tunnel. "Can we bring in the jack-hammers?"

Kwame looked back. There was a good chunk taken out of the rock. Enough for the heavy equipment to dig against.

"Yes." He called back; heading up to the surface.

He slipped the ring on his finger. It was a perfect fit.

"Mr Maliik... I wanted to talk to you about something."

"Certainly." The older man said, happy to see young Kwame. "Have a seat."

Kwame sat down. The air conditioned office was the first time he felt cool air on his skin in quite some time. He was served an iced coffee and took a long sip of it. It was the first one he had ever tasted.

"How are your studies going?"

"Quite well sir. And I wanted to thank you again for your help in getting me permission to do the work from home."

Maliik nodded genially. "I understood why you wanted to stay local. A man should take care of his family." Maliik took a sip of his drink. "So, what's the problem?"

"Well, as you know, I've been working in the mine..."

"I do."

"The men there, they say that there haven't been any new deposits of Copper discovered in months."

"Do the workers get paid on commission?"

"No sir."

"Then why are they worried?"

"They're worried that they're going to be fired. They think the mine has been tapped out. And if it is, then it will close soon. Many of them have nowhere else to go for work."

"I know." Maliik shook his head, deeply aware of this fact. "I wish they did. Kwame, you can go tell your friends and co-workers at the mine that they have no reason to worry. The mine is not going to close. In fact, in a few weeks, anyone who wants to work over time is going to have extra work available."

Kwame blinked. This is more than he thought possible. "How?"

"We're expanding the tunnels. We're not digging too much deeper, just further out. The announcement was to be made this evening."

Kwame blinked again. This made no sense. "Is there more Copper there?"

"We'll find out once we dig." Maliik could see the honest concern on Kwame's face and softened. "Kwame..." He began earnestly. "How long have you and I known each other?"

"My entire life Mr Maliik."

"I was one of the first people there when you were born Kwame. I worked with your father when this company was founded. When he died, it should have gone to you. He wanted it that way."

Kwame shook his head. "I was too young. You were the right choice."

"It may not be my place to say this young man, but I was very proud of you when you took to working in the mine itself. Lots of people would have taken to an office job till they were old enough to take over. You didn't. There's a strong sense of fair play in you. You got that from your father. Time will come when I am too old to take it into the future my boy. In the meantime, I need you to trust me."

"I do trust you sir. But I'm not a fool. I know the pressure that's coming from the Government and the workers; to say nothing of the competition in the market... If we haven't found anything in the ground for months... Why are we still digging?"

Maliik didn't answer for a moment. "Kwame... you know I loved your father like a brother. I would do anything to keep his legacy intact."

Kwame felt a chill. Whatever this was, it was bad. Maliik was clearly struggling with it, so it was not something honorable; only desperate.

Kwame couldn't bring himself to push it. "I know you would Mr Maliik. I would never have thought otherwise." He stood and turned to the door. "He loved you too."

Maliik nodded. "You father wanted you to have it. He knew he was dying; one of the last things he asked me; was to look after it till you were old enough to take over." Maliik looked ill. "I told him I would. A promise I intend to keep."

Kwame nodded and stepped out.

Ngabe and Matali were so relieved to hear that the mine was staying open. Kwame didn't have the heart to share his suspicions as well.

So that night, after the mine had closed, Kwame stayed behind, and kept himself hidden.

He didn't know what he was looking for, but whatever it was, he knew he wasn't going to find it unless he could look alone. He hid himself in a stall in the men's room, and tried to keep his mind off how cramped and hot it was. Kwame was very patient. His father said he was born to the earth; still and tranquil and forever calm. A good personality trait in a miner.

Eventually, the sky grew dark, and the sounds of the workspace went quiet. Kwame let himself out, look around the dark building, and headed off toward the offices.

Being the son of the founder had its advantages. He knew where the security room was, and where the spare set of master keys could be found.

The night watchman was a friend of his father's also, and bought Kwame's story about staying behind to do some business study. Kwame let himself into the manager's office, and quietly went to work, looking through the records.

Kwame had been studying business courses in every spare moment that his work, family and volunteer work left him, but he didn't know what he was looking for. He dare not turn on the lights, for there was staff other than his friends on duty at night.

And that was when it hit him. There should be a lot more people here, even at night. There should be more guards posted. Why had everyone been sent away?

He opened each drawer in turn, went looking through the paperwork. There should have been accounting reports. But there was nothing.

Kwame almost smacked his forehead when realization struck him. If there was something shady going on, Maliik had almost certainly made sure to take the evidence with him after Kwame had come out and asked him about it.

And then, Kwame heard a truck, clearly audible in the silent night.

Kwame went to the window as headlights played over the blinds. The truck was big and had no markings. In fact the sides of the truck were painted over. The truck had a large container on the back, and was towing a large trailer in turn. The headlights went out as soon as the truck reached the gate.

The gate did not open. The gatehouse was empty. Kwame was more than a little stunned. This had to be it. Whatever Maliik was hiding, this had to be it.

The truck driver came out, unlocked the gate himself, and went back to the truck.

Kwame slipped out of the office, and headed for the back door.

It took a little doing to stay out of sight, even in the dark. But Kwame knew the mine well, and stayed low as he headed over toward the mine entrance. He kept hidden behind the conveyors, edging his way closer to the mine.

In the silence of the night, a sudden motor noise made Kwame jump out of his skin suddenly. The truck crew, none of them wearing uniforms, had just started up the Mine conveyor, which took the workers, and the hewn rock; in and out of the mine faster than on foot.

They pulled over one of the small cargo carriages, and started unloading something from the truck.

Barrels. Large round sealed barrels. And even in the dark, even at that distance, Kwame could see the symbols on the side of the Barrels.

The symbols that warned of hazardous chemicals, and toxic waste.

Kwame immediately glanced up to the light poles. There were usually security cameras on top of them, where they had an unrestricted view. Straining his eyes in the dark, he could see... that they weren't there any more. Having been up that high, on light poles only used at night, Kwame had to admit he'd never noticed when they were gone.

Kwame felt sick, deep in his chest. The staff was away from the mine, the cameras had been removed... Mr Maliik had found a new use for the new tunnels now that the mine had gone dry. He was using it to hide toxic waste deep underground.

Kwame slipped away into the night. He had to think about this.

He went to the Mission. The small church had been closed due to financial problems long ago, and the buildings had been taken over by an American Red Cross team; who had a number of doctors coming to treat them as Pro Bono work. Kwame had done a good deal of volunteer work there after his work hours.

The Americans were pleased to see him, always glad to have another set of hands about; and were willing to share their food and drink.

When his sister had to be moved there, Kwame barely made it home any longer.

"Good evening Doctor."

"Evening Kwame." Doctor Woolley said tiredly. The American doctors almost always looked exhausted. Coffee was universal among them, and often some cigarettes as well. "You're here late."

"I would have liked to come sooner, but I was needed elsewhere." Kwame said quietly. He hated lying about it, but didn't know what to do with the truth yet.

In any event, the Doctor did not rush it. "Well, you've been working yourself sick here long enough. And you're a volunteer. You can have a night off once and a while. You're a young man. Don't you want to have fun once and a while?"

Kwame jerked a thumb back over his shoulder at the ward. "How many of your patients are here because they had a good time?"

Woolley sighed. "Mm." He rubbed his eyes a little. The intensive care unit was always full to bursting with AIDS victims; and that wasn't even counting the Emergency patients, filled with accidents, punch-ups, alcohol poisoning. "We lost a few today."

Kwame nodded. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"I hate to be so cold about it, but there was never any chance for them; and we do need the bedspace for the ones we can save." He looked like he hated even saying that. Kwame felt for him. He was suffering under a problem with no clear solutions also. "Coffee?"

"Thank you."

It tasted stale, but it was hot and Kwame had been exhausted for most of the day.

"Oh, by the way; I have a gift for you." Woolley said.

"For me?"

"Yeah. Call it a 'thank you' for helping out around here."

"You don't need to pay me anything."

"I know. In fact, I said those exact words to a patient of mine who gave it to me. He had no money, so he paid in collateral for saving the life of his son." Woolley reached under his chair. "I felt that you might have a greater use for it.

It was a hand sickle. The kind used in farming. The blade was curved almost back on itself in a circle, and a wickedly tapered point. The black metal blade was sharp and strong, and the handle was hand carved wood, polished dark. "I cannot accept this."

"Kwame, take it. You don't get paid for anything you do here while you work half the night. You work all day in the mines. You get up before dawn for your little farming project; use this. It'll be useful."

Kwame smiled. "It will be. Thank you."

For a time, the two of them sat sipping their coffee, until the Doctor was called away to help a patient. "She's in bed three. One of the beds near the window became available."

Kwame nodded and thanked him.

Kwame set down his bag and sat next to his sister's cot. "Hello little sister."

Kunto looked up at him with sunken eyes. "Hi." She croaked. "You're here late."

Kwame picked up the bowl of water and mopped her forehead. "I had some things I had to take care of at work."

"Anything serious?" Kunto asked him. It always made Kwame smile. No matter how sick she was feeling, she made time to ask him about what he was doing.

"Nothing that can't wait till morning." Kwame set the bowl down. "Have you eaten today?"

"Yeah."

"Your nurses say no."

"Snoop."

"Liar." Kwame shot back.

Kunto sighed. "It hurts when I swallow."

Kwame pulled her bowl over. "I know sweetie. But you still have to eat something."

Silence. They both knew what her long term prognosis was.

"Some of the nuns came by today." Kunto volunteered, mostly to get away from the topic of food.

"I thought the Mission was closed." Kwame said in surprise.

"It is. I think they were missionaries; just checking in with where the Mission was originally based." Kunto said. "They gave the man in this bed last rites. I listened to some of the things they were saying to him. It sounded nice."

Kwame was surprised to hear his sister speak of such things. None of them had been terribly religious, not out of any anger over their circumstances, or and lack of belief in a grand creator. It was just that they had little time and effort to spare; and thus never bothered to follow any faith. "You believe in that?"

"I don't know. I am not scared of dying big brother. It's taking me such a long time to get there..." She told him. "But I worry for you. If there is nothing beyond this, then I will not even know I am dead; if there is another life beyond ours, then father and the others wait for me there. But what about you?"

"Don't worry about me." Kwame shushed her.

"I do worry about you." Kunto said intensely. "You spend so much of your time trying to take care of me, I don't really know what you'll do with me gone."

Kwame swallowed. "Neither do I." The thought of the mine and the Barrels of waste jumped back into his mind. Both no-win scenarios bounced into his mind at the same time and made his feel weak at the knees. "Oh hell Sis... I really don't know what to do right now."

Kunto reached up and took his hand gently. "You do what's right Kwame. You always do the right thing. I sometimes wish you'd look after yourself a little more... but you're a good man Kwame. You do right by me, as you did by father, and by-" She broke off into a heavy coughing fit.

Kwame shushed her, wiped her face again, and tried to help her drink some water. "Thank you Kunto. You just helped me with a great problem."

"How?"

"It doesn't matter. You don't have to worry about that." He leaned down and kissed her forehead. "I love you little sister."

"Love you, big brother."

First thing the next morning Maliik looked up as Kwame came into the office without knocking. "Twice in as many days. You aren't making plans to move on this office already are you?" He said jovially.

"I know about the hazardous waste." Kwame said immediately. This man was an old family friend. If he'd waited, he would have lost his nerve.

The second the news was thrown out there, Maliik's face went through a myriad of emotions. First was shock, then a split second of anger, until finally, there was only great sadness. "H-how?" He asked.

"It doesn't matter. Where did it come from?"

"It... it may be better if we did not talk about that."

"Don't try to protect me." Kwame countered. "I know about the Barrels. I'm already in this up to my neck."

"Are you going to turn me in?"

"That depends. Where did they come from?" Kwame pressed. Once the questions started, they couldn't be stopped. "What's in them? Why are you involved in any of this?"

"I don't know what's in them exactly. The Corporation came to me, said they knew the mine was running out of Copper. They offered me money. Enough that I could pay all the workers, all the expenses, all the loans, and still come out ahead."

"The Corporation? Why would they do that?"

"You know how expensive it is to store chemical waste? Much cheaper to put the Barrels in tunnels and then collapse the entrances."

"The Corporation is not hurting for money. They can afford to dispose of such things safely."

"And they got that kind of cash by not spending money they didn't have to. Those Barrels are rated to last for decades. Even longer."

"And you agreed to that?" Kwame nearly roared.

"I was desperate." Maliik whispered. "We were running out of Copper. The mine was going dry... your father entrusted this to me. I was to look after it till you grew old enough.

"Maliik! This is illegal! It's wrong! And if that waste gets into the water table, it could kill people!"

Maliik looked sad. "I know. But if I don't do it, people will starve. This mine feeds hundreds of workers; to say nothing of their families. Money's coming in because of the Waste, and pay checks are earned because our people are doing their jobs. Kwame... you're going to do great things one day. But until then.. Until you get your inheritance, and we get some honest customers..."

"How will we get honest customers by acting dishonestly?" Kwame demanded.

Maliik looked softly at the young man. "Kwame, you don't have to worry about that. Nobody's going to look into it. The Corporation can cover their end, and if somebody did accuse them of dumping, there's nothing to lead them here. And international customers will not care either. This is Africa. Nobody gives a damn about Africa."

"Not even the Africans, it seems!"

Maliik glared and laid it out for him. "Kwame, there's nothing left for the workers to dig up, and there was no capital to move the mine further west. If I could have done it any other way, I would have. Until then, we have no choice."

"What about the water table? What about the savannah? What about-"

"Kwame!" Maliik shouted, fed up. "If anybody cared about that; somebody would have been doing something about it, long before now."

Kwame felt sick. The mine had gone dry. if he pushed this, his father's company would be destroyed, and the workers would go hungry. Africa had little opportunity for people out of work. Including him.

And if he did nothing, the ground would become filled with toxic pollutants. Kwame didn't believe that the Barrels would stay hidden forever. All it would take was one rock falling, one bad seam, and hundreds... thousands of people, to say nothing of the waterways that they relied on...

What was he going to do?

In the silence, Maliik laid it out for him. "Kwame, in six months I can take the money they've given me; pay off the debts, and move the mine. Another month after that, you'll be twenty five, the terms of your father's will are satisfied, and you'll have a productive mine full of workers who know you and like you. I owe your father that. It will be my birthday present to you."

Over a day later, he still had no answer. He cared for the workers. But he loved the world. He loved his country. He loved the sweeping plains and the Acacia trees and the rivers and the birds...

The hand Sickle was a very helpful addition to his work. The curved blade made neat cuts off the Acacia trees, giving him neat saplings. He slung the sickle into a leather loop on his belt; and picked up his staff.

He stabbed the staff into the empty soil, making a hole, and planted another cutting. The sun had almost bleached out the soil into sandy dry dirt. Kwame knew that more than two thirds of the cutting would not survive. But those that did...

Those that did would grow and give shelter to the animals, and homes to the birds, would scrub the air clean and make the wind blow. They would drop their seed palms and give food to the children that had to forage. They would sink their roots deep into the soil as they grew and hold it together against erosion and storm damage...

But all that would take time. Time enough that Kwame doubted he would live to see it. He knew that long before he started, and was content to wait. The Earth was patient. So was he.

If the waste hit the water table, odds were that nobody would see it, if the trees survived at all with poisoned ground water.

The sky brightened sharply as the sun finally rose enough to break over the distant mountains.

Kwame always paused at that moment. Every day he did this, he planted his staff into the earth and turned to face the sun, raising his arms to embrace the light as the sun kissed the purple mountainsides, the wide open grasslands...

But today he simply didn't have it in him. He looked at the familiar view; heard the animals stir as the world told them that their day had begun. It was beautiful to him. And he tried not to cry.

We're killing it. He told himself sickly. We're killing everything beautiful and nobody cares.

Kwame's confusion grew to frustration as the sun grew hot in the sky. He made his way back to the mine, clocked in as usual, let himself get led down into the Tunnel as always... picked up the pickaxe, and started taking out his frustrations on the stone.

He kept going for a good long time. And when he was short of breath, he kept going. The anger firmed his shaking grip and he smashed the point down again and again, carving into the rock.

"Whoa!" Matali said soothingly. "Whatever's bugging you, wearing yourself out won't work. There's a long day ahead."

"Why?" Kwame demanded. "It's not like there's anything to dig out. Just dirt."

"Doesn't mean you rush ahead of us. Mining is a very careful work. Don't stress yourself. The earth is patient. It gives us what we want eventually."

"Miners get killed every year Matali. The Earth takes as well."

His ring glimmered, and the ground shook.

"Oh god... I had to say it out loud didn't I?" Kwame whispered. "OUT! Everyone OUT OF HERE! NOW!"

He needn't have bothered. Every miner knew to run for it when the ground started to move, and the tunnel was filled with fleeing diggers; racing for the surface.

"A quake!" Maliik repeated in disbelief. "This mine has been on solid ground for decades. We're surrounded by bedrock. Where did the quake come from?"

"I do not know sir." Kwame said honestly. "It didn't seem to start at one end of the tunnel or the other, there was no warning, no cave in… The tunnel just started to move as we dug."

"Gas pocket?"

"We've never found one before." Kwame returned. "Besides, why does it matter? It's not like we're losing any profits."

Maliik hesitated. "Kwame..."

"I understand why you're doing this." Kwame cut him off quietly. "But I still don't like it."

"I don't like it either Kwame. But I don't see another option, do you?"

"I believe you want to do the right thing Mr Maliik. I just hope you can find your way back."

"Kwame. What would you do?"

Kwame sighed, dreading that question. "I have been giving that some thought since yesterday. In truth, I do not know, but I would not be doing this." Kwame asserted. "It's not good for us, it's not good for the community, and it's not good for the Environment."

"I know that's important to you-"

"It's important to everyone sir. Especially us. How many mines have had people taken by the earth?"

Unnoticed by either of them, Kwame's ring glimmered lightly, and the room quivered again.

Silence.

"This makes two. This quake was lighter, but it can't be anything else. The ground is unstable. Mr Maliik, all those barrels down there... if there's a serious quake, and they break open..."

Maliik swore under his breath. "All right. All right, I understand. I'll get it out. I'll get those barrels out as soon as it's clear for the men to go back in."

Kwame let out a breath of relief. "Thank you! Thank you sir!"

"Don't thank me. I don't know what we'll do next. The only money coming in was from The Corporation."

"We'll figure something out. We're survivors sir. Survivor's survive."

Maliik grinned. "So much like your father."

The workmen had broken for lunch early, with not much else to do but wait for them to be cleared for entry back into the mine.

Kwame had taken a few sub-surface maps from the offices and spread them out on his lunch table. There was no more metal, so he knew that part of the map had to be faked. But most of this was public record... including the location of the Water Table. It was directly beneath the Savannah... but the water table was fed by several aquifers, the edge of one was right below the mined areas that held the Barrels. If those waste barrels broke, the area would be toxic for generations!

Kwame was still distant from the others, thinking about the future. He was not so poor as others in Africa. The mine had been good to his family. He had some savings. Not enough to live off, but his education was paid up through the year. He could find another job...

But many of them would not. In all likelihood they would join the military to find food. And even though he would not likely have to do so himself, he was not glad that it would happen to the people he knew and worked with. Kwame's family had escaped one genocide, evaded Civil Wars to get here in the first place... And with his stepmother gone, and his sister so ill, it was not possible for the family to move if war came into their lives again…

But he could not let this continue. The Water Table was part of the whole community. Without that, there would be nothing left here for anyone; not just him. This place was their home, and their desperation, put upon them by far greedier men, was killing it.

But what could he do?

"Nice ring."

Kwame looked up at Matali in surprise, and then down at his ring. With everything that had happened, he had completely forgotten it. "Ah. I found it in the mine actually."

"You think one of our workers lost it?"

"You'd think so, but I did not find it in the tunnels. I swung my axe into the rock and pulled it back with this on the point of it."

"May I see it?"

Kwame took off the ring and handed it to his friend.

Matali looked at it carefully. "This symbol on it... looks familiar. I think it's an old Vodun symbol."

"I didn't know Vodun practitioners used rings."

"I have no idea. You should ask my sister. She's a priestess."

Vodun, also known as Voodoo, was a religion largely forgotten in the west, but had some followers in Louisiana, and millions of practitioners in Africa, Haiti...

"I would." Kwame said politely. "But I have many things to do. Besides, you know I do not believe in that religion myself."

"I wasn't suggesting a pilgrimage my friend. My sister works on the kitchen staff part time."

"Indeed. However, I have things I must do right now."

"As you wish." Matali said, not pushing it. "Enjoy your maps."

Kwame went back to the maps, trying to picture it. The Corporation had sent those waste Barrels. But it would likely never be proven that anyone over there had ordered it. Legal action... would be very difficult. The Corporation had more money than all of Africa put together. Their legal team would take Kwame apart. Especially since the waste was already in the mine...

Kwame wanted to cry. He loved Africa. He loved the grasslands. He loved the mountains and he loved his co-workers. It was going to be poisoned out of existence, and there was nothing he could do.

"Mind if I join you?"

Kwame looked up. A woman had come over to join him. She was beautiful and slender, and her clothing colourful woven fabrics, tied with animal shaped pendants. She had a bowl in each hand.

"My name is Natali. My brother told me to come see you about the ring you found."

"Natali and Matali?" Kwame asked in amusement.

Natali smiled with what had to be familiar embarrassment. "I know. My father had a bad memory, so he made sure his twin children rhymed. I think Matali was hoping to set us up to eat lunch together."

Kwame looked down, embarrassed. "Your brother the matchmaker."

"Indeed. Let me see the ring."

Kwame slipped the ring off and did so once again.

She looked at it carefully. "It's a Vodun symbol."

"That I knew." Kwame agreed. "I found it underground. It was buried in the mine, deep in the rock."

Natali looked. "But no scuffs. It looks like a polished jewellers work; not something that had been left buried."

"I noticed that also." Kwame agreed. "I don't know what material can do that; and I come from a mining family."

Natlai nodded. "You don't follow Vodun do you?"

"No."

"Vodun teaching, says that the first one, Mawu, the Creator, bore seven children, and gave them each a rule over a realm. Earth, Air, Water, Animals..." She tapped the top of the ring. "This is an Earth sign. An Elemental. A very old, very powerful sign. You very rarely see it in something like jewellery. But you see there are other, much smaller runes engraved inside the ring band."

Kwame looked. "So there are. I didn't really see that."

"The smaller ones are hard to make out, but they talk about the ring bearer being given power. For some purpose." She looked at him. "You say you just found it in the rock?"

"Yeah."

"My grandmother would call that a sign." She handed the ring back to him.

"A sign of what?" Kwame asked as he slipped it back on his ring finger.

"A sign that you are bound by destiny to something great and powerful from the earth."

"And you?"

"I would say that you don't strike me as the kind to need a matchmaker."

Kwame blinked. "How do you get from there to here?"

"You'd have to be in my head, but it makes sense, really." She smiled brilliantly. "Look, I do not know you, so you will not offend. Do you want to have dinner with me?"

"Wanting to is not the problem. I'm afraid my schedule is busy, even during my off work time."

"Why?"

"I do some volunteer work at the free clinic outside of town. I take care of my sister during that time."

"Your sister is unwell?"

"AIDS." Kwame said.

It was by no means a rare problem, and a look of pure sympathetic pity crossed her face. "I'm sorry." She searched his face a moment.

Kwame let her wonder a moment, and then let her off the hook. "I am not infected myself. My sister are actually my step-family. My father remarried shortly after I was born, so I never knew my real mother. His second wife did not realise she was infected until after the wedding. I was the only one in the family to escape the virus."

Natali nodded with open respect. "Your family is very lucky to have you then. I know many who would have left them."

Kwame smiled. "Thank you. I appreciate it. You are a very beautiful woman Natali, and I do not wish to offend-"

"But duty comes first." Natali agreed. "Can we finish lunch anyway? If only to make my brother happy?"

Kwame laughed. "Please. I would enjoy the company."

It was always darkest before the dawn.

But Kwame rose before the sun every morning, and crept out of his home. As dawn approached, he was able to see well enough as the sky to the east lightened to blue purple with the approaching sun.

Africa only ever felt cold at night. but Kwame was glad for it. He worked hard during the day. With the sun down and the air cool in the pre-dawn, he was able to work now without wearing himself out.

With his sling filled with cuttings from the trees near his town, Kwame went to the empty lands to the north of his town, planting the cuttings every fifteen feet or so. He knew the movements well. His staff would open the sandy dirt, and he would plant one of the cuttings. The ends of the slim branches were filled with sap, the lifeblood of the plant.

The cuttings went into the ground smoothly and hopefully sprouted roots, growing as new tree saplings themselves.

But inwardly, he wondered if it mattered.

Something was different today. Kwame didn't know what it was. But he could feel a change. It was something in the air, something in the ground beneath his feet...

It was something subtle; but it was making the hairs on the back of his neck stand straight up. He didn't know what he was looking for as his eyes scanned the lightening horizon, trying to find it.

And then it came to him. It was not something he saw, it was more of a... a sound. It was hard to describe. It was like a slow, a very slow moving river, merged with a low rolling thunder, and it pulsed like an immense heartbeat.

Kwame could feel the sound, not hear it. It was silence to his ears, but it was all encompassing, all enveloping, and he fell to the ground in awe as it swallowed him whole.

As he lay stretched out on the earth it became infinitely stronger, and Kwame suddenly realised where it came from. It was coming from the ground. He was drowning in the very heartbeat of the Earth.

Kwame didn't know how it was happening, but he knew instinctively that he never wanted it to stop.

The pulse was strongest in his arm, and he fought to turn his head against the tide of the Earth Beat, until he could see his hand.

His ring was glowing with an impossibly pure green light, and it grew ever brighter until his vision washed-out out with the pure brown/green light.

Where am I going? Kwame asked in wonder.

Home.

AN: I have never been to Africa, I have never been in a mine. All I know about either is what I see on TV, and what i get from a few minutes with wikipedia. One Planeteer down. Four more to go. How am I doing so far?

EDIT: Chapter re-uploaded. The only changes are correcting some spelling, grammar, etc.