Original subtitles

What did you think would happen to me, Gaal,

when you so abruptly sundered my consciousness from the Raven?

What did you imagine would happen to me?

That my thoughts would simply be suspended as yours were while you cryoslept?

Did it occur to you that you would become my torturer?

You didn't give it a second's thought, did you?

I was conscious the entire time!

I didn't know, Hari.

I'd just learned that Raych was dead, that there was never a future for us--

Take that up with Raych!

He knew everything, Gaal. Everything.

Hold on!

Now is not the time to air our grievances, Hari.

I looked at the math. The Plan's gone off course.

- And why is the Plan off course, Gaal? - I don't know.

Don't you dare play the innocent with me, Gaal.

- What? - You know damn well.

My numbers were predicated on the creation of a Second Foundation, remember?

Second Foundation?

- Who are you? - I'm Salvor Hardin, Gaal's daughter.

Daughter?

You have a daughter?

- The Plan-wrecker has a daughter! - Yes. You know me.

I was Warden of Terminus when you stepped out of the Vault.

Terminus? Terminus? I was on Terminus?

Yes. No. No, you weren't. He was. The other one.

He doesn't know your mind. You don't know his.

His Foundation is hurtling towards conflict.

Empire will find him soon.

- Wait. What are you talking about? - War. Trantor, Terminus. Very soon now.

What? We need to help them.

- We need to warn them that-- - Yes! Good idea!

That's what the Second Foundation was meant to be doing, Gaal!

Putting its thumb on the scale.

Hari Seldon!

You don't know me, but I know you.

Your Second Foundation doesn't stand a chance

if we don't get this ship off-planet right now!

You're in the mainframe. Clear our avionics fault. Help us.

Hari!

- He did it. - What's going on?

- He cleared the fault. - We can leave?

Shit. Almost.

One of the stabilizers is jammed.

Looks like a bunch of coral grew inside it.

I have to climb out and force it manually.

When I tell you, "Fire the engines," you advance the throttle halfway.

Okay.

Salvor, hurry. The front's almost on top of us.

I'm almost there!

Salvor, inside now!

Yes!

- Fire the engines! Don't wait for me! - But--

Fire the damn engines, Gaal!

Fuck! Okay.

Whoa!

Beki. What's up?

Can you smell the water?

We'll bring this back for the Claric, hmm?

What's wrong, Beki? You smell trouble?

Oh, shit.

Hell, Brother! That's like ice.

- Go away. I'm sick. - You're hungover.

- And maybe still drunk. Give me your arm. - No, no. Not again. Not again.

No, not again. Not again!

Curse you, Brother!

Get it all out.

Dear Seldon.

Trousers. Put 'em on.

Well, that was a productive purge, wasn't it?

Clean as a whistle, all the way through.

- You're a demon. - And you're detoxed.

Give it a minute, and you'll be perky enough to wipe your arse

and greet the day with a smile.

And I found a death threat, if you're interested.

Well,

that's a fairly gruesome message for the Foundation.

Dagger's a bit of an overkill.

Lightning hit the tree. Was that their plan?

Tie him up and get lightning to kill him?

Oh, yes. That was very much their plan.

It's been a century since Empire pulled up stakes here,

leaving nothing but bad feelings.

And it seems the local taste for off-worlders continues to sour.

Claric Rees. I knew him.

Good Magician. Sad eyes.

I always felt that I had to apologize for something.

Killed for his beliefs in the teachings of Hari Seldon, unfortunately.

There's all flavors of people on Siwenna.

Doesn't have to be the religious ones who left this warning.

The symbol of the local lightning deity.

Someone feels like they're being kicked in the gods.

But they can keep their gods.

We're just shining a light on the great force that underlies everything.

And illuminating a few corners some would prefer to keep darkened.

Faith is a funny thing, Brother.

They mean to ambush us later, right?

Without a doubt. Keep your aura charged.

Not much use against lightning.

Avoid lightning.

Empress Hanlo, one of the greats.

And this gangly child would go on to become Empress Ammentic,

arguably even greater.

Their dynasty began 4,000 years ago and ended two millennia later,

far longer than our Cleonic age.

It covered four times the area

and oversaw a blossoming of science and culture.

I have the results of Dusk and Dawn's memory audit.

There is no record of contact with the Blind Angels,

nor with anyone else outside their normal circles.

So neither of my brothers hired someone to kill me?

What a low bar we've set these days.

Or more precisely, they don't remember hiring someone to kill you.

Well, that's a loophole to close.

Yes. I'll see to that.

I've also edited the memories of the medical staff.

They'll have no recollection of having seen either of us so compromised.

Enemies in my home.

Foundation poaching the Outer Reach.

The Empire squirms in my grasp like an angry cat,

which makes me all the more determined to solidify this marriage.

To that end, I've found someone to engage the Foundation.

Fifteen years' experience in the Superluminal Armada.

A decade in Intelligence.

- Oh, come on! - Honest. Incorruptible.

Bel Riose?

- Absolutely not. - He's the best man for the job.

He retreated under fire over the Lemul Cluster.

He executed a flanking maneuver

and won the encounter with minimal loss of life.

Immaterial. He disobeyed me.

Your efforts to extinguish the Foundation will suffer if you indulge your ego.

Ego? Riose thinks he can disregard the wishes of an emperor.

Luck happened to be on his side one time!

And his people, extolling him as a hero for saving their lives,

when what he's really done is rupture military discipline.

How long do they think the service will feed them and bind up their wounds

if obeying orders becomes optional?

It's a step into chaos, another symptom of void-fucked entropy

as everything goes lurching off into disorder

and I'm left to scrabble around like an infant,

looking for pieces large enough to grasp.

From the universe to an atom...

it all just falls apart in your own damn hands.

How long did you expect my outburst to last?

A minute and a quarter. You came in well under.

Shall I speak with Riose?

If he refuses...

kill him.

- Bel Riose? - He's the ablest general we have.

Yes, and he knows it.

And if he's out to settle scores with you, it will get volatile.

His fleet is extremely loyal to him.

He has no fleet. He's a prisoner.

Well, perhaps he should remain one.

And please.

Forks down.

As we begin again.

Index finger below the tines. Arc the forearm. Arc the forearm.

As Prime, my brothers would do well to follow my lead.

Brother, your genetic match to the Principium

was off by three centimorgans.

That's been corrected.

DNA is easy. Habits are hard.

We must present as one man.

No matter how far you-- we have drifted.

On the subject of Riose,

I remember learning about a similar difficulty faced by Emperor Daluben IV.

There was a wildly charismatic general, and he--

Now I have a history instructor as well as a movement coach.

Yet another incentive for this marriage. We don't ever have to do this again.

So, the Second Foundation.

Why did you keep Hari from starting it?

I don't know.

I loved your father.

With Raych, I finally felt whole.

And Hari ripped that away from me.

I knew the Plan was important,

but in the moment, I couldn't separate the man from the math.

And if you had, you could've helped Terminus?

It's more complicated than that.

Hari doesn't tell you everything. He never does.

Give a girl a fish, she eats for a day.

Teach a girl to fish...

You've peered into the Prime Radiant, Gaal.

All the way to the end.

The answers are there for you if you care to work them out.

We're not meant to interfere in the war between Empire and Foundation,

much as you might wish to.

Well, you said the math was off course, so let's fix it.

I mean, they do need to win, don't they?

We're decades from Terminus, without a jumpship or access to a gate.

And even if we had,

- we wouldn't intervene directly. - Why not?

First Foundation needs to be kept in the dark.

Psychohistory predicts the natural patterns of humanity.

Introduce too much information into the system,

and you disturb it,

which is why the system required a counterpoint.

A Second Foundation.

Psychohistorians with access to the Plan.

Knowledge of the future applied judiciously

and with intent to quietly adjust the Empire's course.

Or the First Foundation's, if needed.

Now she gets it. Finally.

You're talking like Terminus is the enemy.

It isn't. Not yet.

But power corrupts.

And a Foundation left unchecked becomes Empire all over again.

They are good people. You do not know them like I do.

Everyone you knew there is dead.

Nice.

We lose, it's bad. We win, it's bad.

I can't accept that.

I don't know if the Foundation can survive this crisis,

but I know what's ahead.

I know what all that red in the Radiant is.

You felt something. Another presentiment.

Tell me.

Despair.

Death. Destruction.

I did this.

When I climbed out of the pool and stumbled in on you and Raych,

I threw the equations off course.

But maybe those same instincts can steer them back.

I've felt stronger since Salvor arrived.

Maybe it's her abilities, an amplifying effect.

Abilities? You feel the future as well?

Not the future. The past.

Just moments Gaal and Raych experienced.

- Raych? - Via the seed bank.

If Salvor can access my memories,

then maybe my premonitions are the same thing in reverse.

Memories my future self has experienced.

Show me the turning point where chaos seems to consume everything.

Your turning point.

How far into the future would you say that is?

Another 150 years?

That's where you need to project your consciousness, Gaal.

That's where we find a new path.

- I should be long dead by then. - You slept through the last century.

Who's to say you don't sleep through the next?

Dominion.

Lady Demerzel, will you not dine with us?

Thank you, Your Grace. I'm more comfortable where I stand.

Thank you.

I've always been fascinated by planetesimals.

How many in your realm are populated?

More than a thousand in the Cloud Dominion.

Many with unique features.

We'll host a visit, and you can come ice-running with me.

There are mountains of methane ice to play on.

I'd enjoy that very much.

Will you join us for ice-running, Brother Day?

Steel blades on combustible ice at high speeds?

We'll leave that to foolish youngsters with flexible knees.

Really?

I mean, if need be, can't you simply decant a new one of you

and take their knees?

Dominion.

I'm sorry. Was that rude? Aren't we to be family?

Not rude at all. Curiosity is becoming.

Well, I am fascinated.

For example, if yesterday's assassination attempt had succeeded,

you'd be a new man now, wouldn't you?

Would we even know? Would he know?

How did you learn of the attempt?

It was a only rumor till you just confirmed it.

There are many rumors about Empire, you know.

Some more frivolous than others.

I've heard you don't lift your own forks.

That the servants feed you like infants.

Oh, please, Astrid, come and hoist this quail

and shove it into my mouth.

Yeah, well, it must be nice to have some surety of succession.

If you marry me and rely on biology, you'll lose that.

With multiple children, we'll have a different kind of surety.

True. With enough children, even a zeppelin crash needn't disrupt the line.

We are very sorry for your losses.

My oldest sister, the crown princess, was trained in leadership.

My brother was an officer in the Royal Hussars.

I was allowed to be a dilettante.

Sport, art, music.

Well, may we all be eternal students.

Yes, it was a wonderful life until the accident.

Now, I am Dominion with no education on how to rule.

Our alliance will provide you with all the support you could wish for.

I see benefits to myself.

But what of you, Brother Dawn?

You'll lose a kingdom.

But gain a sister.

Is that what I'll be?

And won't I be accomplishing

what yesterday's attempt sought to do but could not?

A baby is born,

and all the other branches fall off the tree.

Assassination by procreation.

We're not branches. It's all one tree.

We're the same man.

But you would never become Day.

Your very reason for existing would be erased.

She's gonna talk her way out of marriage.

Not at all.

She's displaying a fine mind for analysis.

May I see them, Empire?

The branches I'll be snipping off.

The bodies in jars.

I will escort you to the Principium myself.

And please, call me "Day."

Dawn. Dusk.

Cleon I.

Somehow, I thought he'd be lying down.

I wonder if he knew how long he'd be on his feet.

We could bring him a chair.

I meant walking around inside you three.

I'm not surprised he's worn out.

- So, if you had died yesterday... - No.

- ...which one? - It's this one.

"Rejoice his shame remains unknown:

that he had almost sat a throne."

I don't know that poem.

It's about an uprising.

Empire banned it decades ago. It's a crime to quote it.

I only see Cleons. Are the Demerzels kept separate?

I assume that's how she stays the same age.

She has separate arrangements, yes.

You can see my memories are transmitted as I make them.

We only edit them so he--

so I wouldn't remember being killed.

And he wouldn't know he'd replaced another.

A gift of mercy for your son.

Or is that the wrong word?

We call them exponents.

It'll be easy to end them when there are little footsteps in the palace.

How will it be done?

The tanks will be drained. The decay harnessed as energy.

Your scientists are efficient.

Always. In fact, I have good news.

I'm told there's little risk of genetic disorder in our offspring.

You tested me? How?

Your drinking glass at dinner.

I would've spat for your scientists and eliminated a step.

So, you're expecting intercourse?

In the pre-Cleonic age, Empress Ravenna thought it essential.

And I think it's a good way to create an emotional bond.

She also fancied a public consummation, but that seems cruel...

to the public.

My sterility can be reversed,

but I suggest that our genetic material be combined in a lab.

If we have a selection of viable embryos,

we can choose one with a superior makeup for implantation.

Once there are children and this room is empty,

assassins could strike again.

Your child would rule, but you would be gone.

In killing the would-be assassins,

you've left no way to tell if whoever sent them will send more.

They will be deterred by yesterday's swift justice.

Will they?

Dominion asks why unrest exists and addresses causes.

You've had a lighter hand than ours.

A well-trimmed vessel only needs a light hand.

- Dominion is small. - Empire's shrinking.

Empire is healthy.

Is it?

'Cause there are rumors, Day,

that the integrity of your hermetically sealed lineage

was corrupted some time ago.

Which would explain, I suppose,

your interest in my as-yet-unexploited womb.

Hurry up, Claric.

Hey! Come back here!

Show tonight.

Not much longer.

Sit down if you want. Too hot to be standing.

Clear out!

You gotta go, girl.

The title is "Brother."

Novice Claric Brother Constant of the Foundation,

from which all blessings are derived.

Jori, shut her down.

Holo sign. Intriguing, isn't it, Jori?

Don't you wanna see the show, Jori?

The sign says "sunset." It's full day.

It'll be dark soon enough, if the Prophet wills it.

Can I ask, what's that you have there, sirs?

It's called handfast.

We use it to restrain offenders. It's consecrated.

A sound philosophy, restraint.

And one the Galactic Spirit fully tends to embrace in our celebration tonight.

Right. At sunset.

The Galactic Spirit in the Foundation can help raise your crop yields.

Keep vermin out of the harvest. Predict weather patterns.

All things Empire stopped doing.

We know how to do that.

I predict lightning. Hits a couple tall trees every night.

All right. You've made your speech.

Show's over.

Show's over!

Behold the Spirit's shield.

She's got a field like the other blasphemer.

Go on. Take it.

Spirit protects anyone who believes.

Your Spirit didn't protect the one we strung up.

And he was bigger than you, so...

Oh, shit.

Claric.

About bloody time, Claric.

The Spirit is among us now.

Trust the Spirit.

Greetings, people of Siwenna.

The Spirit has come to free you from fruitless labor and petty tyranny.

Go home, heretic! Go home, heretic!

Go home, heretic!

Go home, heret--

He was heavier than I thought.

I think it was these coins he had in his pocket.

Enlightenment, citizens. There is no end what the Spirit can do.

Don't take it from me.

Ask your neighbors, seven worlds in the Outer Reach,

once in the crushing embrace of Empire!

And then abandoned, as you are.

Empire cast you off, bringing you freedom but also poverty.

It doesn't have to be like that. Ask Konom.

Ask Daribow and others who are now rich,

rich with the words of Hari Seldon, the First Prophet.

Remember Hari Seldon.

That's right. Remember.

I do.

I saw Hari Seldon with my own eyes...

An eyewitness.

...138 years ago.

And nothing since compares to that moment.

The Vault opened. The Prophet emerged. He spoke.

And those who heard his words were forever changed.

Gaze upon the mysteries of our faith.

- What will they reveal? - I want to know.

- What was that, Brother? - I want to know!

She wants to know. Do you want to know?

I wanna know!

I want to know! I want to know!

Do you want to hear the good news about the coming galactic paradise?

We want to hear!

- We want to hear! - Claric? Claric!

We want to hear!

- What the damnable fuck, Brother? - We've got to get out of here, Poly.

Never heard it do that before.

Must be void-damn important not to trust sub-ether comms.

What? What?

What?

The Vault is awake. We've been called back to Terminus.

Well, that's wonderful news.

This is what you want, isn't it? The Prophet walking amongst us again.

One of the worst punishments is having your wish come true.

The second coming of Seldon means the Second Crisis.

After Seldon left the first time,

I was sure he'd be back once a year or a decade.

But when he didn't, I thought, "On the hundredth anniversary, surely."

But--

And here we are telling people about the Prophet who cares so much for us.

Who lived on after death to shepherd us through the darkness.

Every time I preach now,

I wonder if he's still-- is still invested in us.

Course he is. I feel it. And you do too.

When you tell the story of your bearing witness to him,

the light pours from you.

That's flash powder, Brother.

Flash powder and truth, Claric.

I need a drink.

That's why I'm navigating, sir.

Already fired up neuro-drives. Activating sleep patches.

I'm about to engage auto-jump.

"Death, despair, destruction." That's what you said.

This certainly looks the part. Our turning point. Go there.

I'm afraid if I go there, I won't be able to find my way back.

You need a lighthouse.

When I'd slip into your memories, or Raych's,

Hugo's voice used to guide me back.

Try listening for mine.

- 150 years upstream? - Why not?

86,988,053.

86,988,059.

86,988,079...

It won't work.

The visions are unconscious, okay?

I've always been asleep or under stress. I--

What?

In Old Synnaxian, the word for "prophecy" means "water takes them."

Seers would submerge themselves.

When they couldn't breathe, their inner eyes opened.

Wait, Gaal!

Warning.

- Fire suppression activated. - Wait, what?

Venting all oxygen.

- What are you doing? - She needs to drown, Salvor.

Beggar! Emergency override.

No! No.

Gaal!

All alone.

Without your warriors.

Where are your Mentalics, Gaal?

Where is the Second Foundation?

I can reach inside your mind.

What's that I see?

A younger self peeking out at me.

Are you from the Age of Empire?

Before Hober Mallow pierced its hide.

Gaal!

Gaal?

Gaal! Gaal!

Gaal. Gaal. Gaal.

- Your throat. - He was choking me.

Who was?

He calls himself the Mule.

He's the source of the coming darkness.

- He's like us. - A telepath.

Only more powerful.

He knew I was watching him from the past from now.

He mentioned another name, Hober Mallow.

Hober Mallow?

What else did you see, Gaal?

Most of the galaxy had already fallen at the Mule's feet,

but he wasn't satisfied.

- He wanted... - What? He wanted what?

...the location of the Second Foundation.

I knew it.

He was prying it out of me.

And when he looked into my mind, I saw a glimpse inside his.

There was so much hatred.

Not just for me, but for everyone.

He mentioned the word "Mentalics,"

called them my warriors.

He's afraid of the Second Foundation.

Hari, he thinks they're the only thing that can stop him.

Then it can still exist.

What was the location the Mule was trying to pull out of you?

It's there. Go on.

"Ignatius"?

No! Ignis.

- That's a planet? - I think so.

Here it is.

Orbits a neutron star. It's habitable.

And it's close. Just under a parsec from here.

And I can hear--

Hear isn't quite the right word, but...

It's almost like someone's calling to us. Can you hear that?

No.

Listen.

Maybe.

Yes.

It feels right.

It appears you've found us a new path.

High Claric, welcome home.

There's a claw in the hold.

It's territorial, so mind you leave her be.

I'm so happy to see you, Pater.

You got here fast.

They told us you were preaching in the Red Corridor.

I like the mustache. It looks good.

Everything's been crazy all day here.

Wait till you see the Vault.

And all of us together for it, thank the Prophet.

This portends war, doesn't it?

There he is. The man of the moment.

- Shall we? - Have faith.

Welcome back to Terminus.

Yeah. Good to be back.

Yeah. Nice to have you back under such auspicious conditions.

I convinced the Director to wait for you.

He would deprive himself of my sparkling wit and company?

He used other words.

But you had to be a part of this.

Poly Verisof, the Holy Witness.

The ten-year-old half-feral child with a front-row seat to revelation.

I don't know about the half-feral, but I'm honored all the same.

Go ahead, Warden Jaegger.

When the Prophet emerges, I'm going to ask to speak with him privately.

That way, we won't have any surprises.

- Where will I be? - With the citizens, managing the crowd.

I'll introduce you. You can say a homily or something.

You want me on crowd control?

Hari Seldon is about to walk out of his vault

and take note of what's been done in his name since the last time I saw him.

If anyone speaks alone with him, it should be me.

My title alone ensures it.

High Claric didn't exist the last time Seldon appeared.

The Church of the Galactic Spirit didn't exist.

The Foundation endorses the church's missionary work,

but it is ultimately just recruitment.

Just recruitment?

And we thank you for it.

The impending war will be funded because you sell salvation,

and tricks and trinkets.

I was against that approach, by the way. I was against calling ourselves Magicians.

We're supposed to offer them a rational blueprint of a new society,

not turn them into arms depots and military bases.

You've always closed your eyes to the realities of war.

When was the last time you visited the church here

to see the new technologies?

Are they deadly? No, wait, are they expensive?

Are we going to tax our citizens more to pay for them?

Are you going to get a cut?

Look at this place. We might as well be on Trantor.

Seldon was a teacher, not a trader.

His mission was to shorten humankind's slide into barbarism and ignorance.

- Do you still believe in that? - I believe in the Prophet.

Yeah? Which way are you spelling it?

You're not speaking with him, Poly.

Then why bother calling me home?

You're popular with the masses.

I'm not some damn painting of a saint.

I'm the last one alive who saw him in person.

And when he looks at what's been done in his name,

I'm the only one who can explain it to him.

You see it, Warden Jaegger?

You want the truth?

I can smell liquor on you.

And your pupils, Vordaline dust maybe?

Do I seem drunk?

I want people next to me with steady hands.

I'd retire you if I thought she'd stand for it.

I shudder to think of her safety.

You go too far, Sermak.

Look, you guys have it out another time.

The Vault's as ripe as a melon,

and we can't risk another minute for it to burst open without us.

"You can say a homily." Fuck.

My girl. I'm so glad you're back.

Dad. Me too.

I'm just so glad I get to be with my whole family

when we witness the Prophet.

I have to oversee the final preparations. I'll see you at the Vault.

This is a mistake. I can feel it in my bones.

I never got to plant my flag here when I was a boy.

Hari Seldon, if it please you to show yourself...

Dr. Seldon, I walk behind you.

To walk beside you for one step would fulfill every dream.

More than one step would be good too.

Dr. Seldon. Hari Seldon!

Maybe he wants us to enter.

Shall I join you, sir?

People of Terminus, I am beyond proud today

to bear the title "Warden of Terminus."

The same title borne by the great Salvor Hardin

the last time this vault opened!

There have been days when the burden of the job, of her legacy,

weighed heavy on me,

but today makes it all worth it!

Today, I will speak to the Prophet! I will bring back his word!

And then I will lead you all whither he sends us!

"Whither"? Jackass.

He didn't even introduce me.

Let me hear you as I step boldly into the future!

Hober Mallow.

Hober Mallow.

Hober Mallow! Hober Mallow! Hober Mallow!

Get Hober Mallow!

Who the heck is Hober Mallow?

Shit.

Gaal?

Gaal?

- Gaal? - Maybe this is a mistake.

Maybe we're playing right into the Mule's hands.

Why do you say that?

I need to tell you something.

You saw something else, didn't you?

My vision of the Mule, I hid something.

From you and Hari.

I was trying to escape him.

There was ash everywhere. The smell of human flesh burning.

He knocked me down, and I was stunned. I--

I turned...

I saw you lying next to me.

You were dead.

Salvor, you were dead.