All language subtitles for Foundation - 1x04 - Barbarians at the Gate.WEB.GGEZ.en

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Once, a man came to Hari Seldon

and asked to be told his fate.

He wanted to know

whether the predictive models could
chart the significance of his life.

But Hari told him only the movements
of masses could be predicted.

The fate of one individual
will always remain a mystery.

The clockwork of civilization…

The rise and fall of cultures…

Causes and worlds…

These were answers
Hari Seldon had long since unriddled.

Belief is a powerful weapon.

That's why the Empire feared
Hari Seldon's predictions so much.

Empires govern worldly concerns,
but what comes after? Our souls?

These realms are the purview of faith.

And faith is a sword
forged in the fires of the infinite.

Empire? Do you seek different amusement?

You'll do. For the routine pleasures
in the routine manner.

Which pleasures do you prefer, Empire?

Do you offer the pleasure of nothing?
Is that on the menu?

Is it true?
No one's allowed to touch you?

Bold, aren't you?

I have only 24 hours of service to you.

I want to make the most of it.

Then try to touch me.

I said try.

The aura repels kinetic energy.

I want you to try it again,
with a softer touch.

Slower.

Slower.

So, how…

…does the rest work?

What?

You are required, Empire.

I understand Empire has
a physiological need for intimacy.

But the current matter
supersedes this need.

Ambassador Thanwall.

Most esteemed Empire,
glory to the light...

Out with it, Ambassador.

Proxima Opal has passed, Empire.

Our condolences.

Condolences. Heartfelt.

Thank you, Empire.

Proxima Opal will be missed
and mourned by her flock.

And now the conclave will elevate
her successor, Zephyr Gilat.

A capable candidate. We like her.

Carry our condolences forward,
Ambassador.

And inform Gilat
she's always welcome on Trantor.

On the topic of a successor, Empire,

there is some debate.

Another candidate has been
gaining support.

Zephyr Halima.

Halima Ifa does not adhere to
accepted doctrine,

as have our previous proximas.

She is advocating for
a return to the Primary Octavo.

Is she suicidal?

Who is this woman to
question our primacy?

A-A-Apologies, Empire. I-I...

- Did you know about this?
- Only moments ago.

When is Opal's funeral?

Two days hence, Empire.

Say nothing of this conversation.

We will contact you shortly.

I helped install the previous Proxima.

I'll leave for the conclave
as soon as possible.

Is that really necessary?
Can't you just holo-cast yourself in?

Not this time.

Luminism claims
three trillion followers.

This schism requires a personal touch.

What's the Primary Octavo?

A heretical scripture. Pre-imperial.

It directly links the soul
to individuated sentience.

- What does that mean...
- Individuated sentience.

Think, Brother Dawn.

If a soul cleaves only to
an individual being,

that calls into question
that which cannot be individuated.

All Cleons are
perfect genetic copies of the first.

And therefore…

We don't have souls.

So, this Halima woman is saying
we're, what?

Not human?

Indirectly. But...

And if the galaxy comes to believe

their leaders are less than,
rather than more than themselves,

they may cease to follow.

We are a glass vessel…

Spun with a fine hand.

If the pressures inside start to swirl
and we are not uniform…

We may burst.

- Who are you?
- Salvor Hardin.

Warden of Terminus.

Anacreons aren't
allowed on imperial soil.

What are you doing here?

Scrapping.

That's a lot of armor for scrappers.

We're looking for
the ship's navigation module.

Any critical components were stripped
from this hulk decades ago.

But, again,
a real scrapper would know that.

You should leave.
Before the Empire catches wind of this.

My people do not fear the Empire.

Look, I caught you by surprise

and now you're improvising.

But if you were gonna kill me,
you would have already.

So what's the play?

That tower. Take us there.

Why?

Let me be clear, Warden.

We know how to use
every resource we come across.

The children we observed earlier,

we've seen how they sneak away
just before dawn,

straying far away from
the rest of your flock.

If you won't lead us to the tower,

we'll simply utilize one of them.

It's not that simple. We have a fence.

We're aware of your fence.

We saw you
perform maintenance on it earlier.

Which makes you the perfect
person to take us through it.

To the tower then!

The fence uses DNA recognition.

It'll radiate anyone
who isn't in the database.

I might be able to get one of you in.

If we walk through together,

the fence should write off
the second person as an error.

Then take us all through it.

This only works once. Maybe.

The only thing I've ever dragged
through this fence was already dead.

I can feel you tensing up. Don't.

If she isn't back within a watch,

we'll raze your city to the ground.

Go. Get the others.

Establish a perimeter
and stay out of sight.

Wanna drive and I'll hold the gun?

Tell me your name, at least.

Are we best friends now?

You've risked a lot coming here.

We've risked everything, Warden.

- No. There was a boy in our path!
- Don't get cute. I have eyes.

The tower's that way.

I'm taking a shortcut.
Fewer watchmen this way.

What is that?

Stop.

Stop.

The stories about Salvor Hardin?
They usually begin here.

The warden and the ghost,

inexplicably bound together.

Thanks.

How did they slip past our radar?

Flew in the nap of the earth. Maybe.

Any sign of their ships?

Ugh. They claimed to be scrappers.

Said they were after
a navigation module.

- Obviously bullshit.
- We need to contact the Empire.

We can't do anything
without authorization.

Come on, Mom.
We're an imperial outpost in name only.

When was the last time they even
contacted us? A decade ago?

They won't defend us.
We need to do it ourselves.

Easy. Violence is the last refuge...

Of the incompetent, I know.
That's an old man's doctrine.

It's an observation I made
when I was younger than you.

Would Hari's plan have assumed
we'd wait for help or act on our own?

Hari is not here, Mom.
We need to help ourselves.

Welcome back, best friend.

You left the conversation
just as we were

really getting to know each other.

Headache?

Teeth feel like they're falling out?

What was that cursed thing?

It was here when we colonized Terminus.

Didn't show up on any of our scans.

I guess it didn't show
up on yours either.

Why did it not affect you?

Let's just say I'm the last person
on Terminus

you wanted to come across.

So…

What now, Warden?

She had a small army with her.

An... And their tracks,
some of them were deep.

Shorter stride lengths. As if they
were carrying heavy equipment.

Like they're planning on digging in,
Dad.

- Well, what do you wanna do?
- I don't know.

I've been following my instincts, and...

I don't know,
maybe it was just dumb luck.

Your instincts didn't just
lead you to the ships.

They led you to her.
And you stopped her.

If you were better at math,

you'd know that repeated luck was
more than just luck, Salvor.

Whether your mother wants
to admit it or not,

we have been following your lead

from
the moment you pulled yourself upright.

It's no accident
the people made you warden.

So lead us.

I have never had the pleasure, Empire.
How may I be of service?

Captain Obrecht, is it?

Shadowmaster, Empire.
Shadowmaster Obrecht.

A fine likeness.

What's the protocol for dealing
with a problem palace attendant?

What level of attendant, if I may ask?

Someone who works in the garden.

May I ask the nature of the problem?

You may not. I just want her name.

I can ascertain that, Empire.

Along with anything
else you may require.

That's all for now.

I saw at least a dozen Anacreons
outside the fence.

Travik, take the southern loop.

Kalin, cover the west.

Yate, I want you on the east so you can
spot anyone coming over that ridge.

And if we see any of these guys,
what are we supposed to do?

Nothing.

Don't shoot at them,
don't speak to them.

Just watch 'em and keep me informed.

What's this about Anacreons on Terminus?

Calls herself Phara.

Beyond that,
nothing about her story adds up.

If anyone can tell
whether somebody's lying, it's you.

That's just the thing.
I can't tell if she's lying

or if she's just not telling the truth.

Is there a difference?

I've got a plan.
But I'm gonna need your help.

What's this? Torture?

He's my manservant.

Runs and fetches.
Reseals my boots when they need it.

I'm thinking a watch has passed,

as far as my weald-men are concerned.

Why are you really here, Phara?

Salvor has a talent for reading people.

It's uncanny, really.
I was just telling her mother about it.

She doesn't believe you.

Well, you told her you're my boss.
Now my praise rings hollow.

What's your interest
in the Foundation Tower?

The module. I already told you.
You keep asking me the same questions.

I'm giving you a chance
to give better answers.

Crowns.

I know you're after something else.

We don't have any Anacreon artifacts,
no heavy weapons, so what...

This is going in circles.

Explain it to her.

Just give her what she wants.

Your accent's not terrible.

You were taught by someone
in the port city, obviously.

Those lazy vowels.

I'm a trader.

I do business with your people
now and then.

Thought I smelled a whiff
of Thespin on you.

I want the navigation module. That's it.

Another lie.

You speak Anacreon as well?

Not a word.

- Yet you know I'm lying?
- Cats.

That was a 50-50 chance.

Cats again. Who are you really?

Twenty-five percent chance there.

Now it's back to crowns.

Twelve and a half percent.
And another crown. Why are you here?

Another crown again.

I'd give you the percentage,
but repeated luck is never luck.

Who are you?

We're scrappers. The module.

You're not scrappers. And the navigation
module's a distraction...

Enough of these child games.

Take this Thespin thug off his leash
and let him get on with it!

Your scars…

Keloids.

Your left eye…

Nano-glass.

You lose it when
the Empire bombed Anacreon?

I imagine you must have been, what,
five, six at the time?

Neutron bombs have a low explosive yield

but a high amount of ionizing radiation.

Now, I know about 50% of the population
died off within a week,

another 20 or 30
within the remaining year.

Odds are you came out the other end
an orphan, right?

Probably lost a mom and dad.

Boiled alive.

Or maybe s-slower.

Cancer.

Thyroid for your mother.

Her voice, it changed before she died.

Who else did you lose? A sister?

A brother.

A little brother.

There's a deadness inside her.
It's like a...

It's like a well with no bottom,
just sucking everything in.

She wants to die.

She wants everyone to die. I felt it.

What she said when she broke,
did you understand any of it?

Some, yeah. It's archaic Anacreon,
not the common vernacular.

Well, she slipped up.
Because I understood something too.

A name I remember from the holos.
Larken Keaen.

During the Anthor Belt dispute,

Anacreon and Thespis brought gifts
to the Emperor.

My people's was the Book of Ablut...

And Anacreon's was a bow
carved for its greatest hunter.

- Larken Keaen.
- Meaning?

Phara's not just some junker.

She's the Grand Huntress of Anacreon.

All this unrest,
who's responsible for it?

Sinkers. A nom de guerre.

After the heat sink
meltdown on level 77.

It was caused when the Star Bridge fell.

And 35 years later we're still grappling
with the aftereffects.

The businesses of Empire is
a cascade of competing priorities.

Brother Day will need your support
while I tend to the conclave.

It's overwhelming.

For one man.

Fortunately, there are three of us.

Bad tidings also come in threes.
Have you heard the news, Brother?

A communications buoy
in the Arcturus Sector

has come off-line.

They must go off-line
all the time, right?

We probably have thousands of them
across the galaxy.

Tens of thousands.

But only one that handles communications
in the Outer Reach.

I see that you fail to grasp
the significance.

It's Terminus.

It's where Brother Dusk exiled
Hari Seldon's followers.

The Reach. The conclave. Insurgency…

Do you see a pattern forming here?

Show them.

Sensing vulnerability,

soon other players will begin
to apply downward pressure.

An exhortation from one of the galaxy's
major religions is a given.

Or perhaps a homegrown insurrection
here on Trantor.

If the fall can be accelerated,
can it not also be slowed?

Now look at you, Brother.

So smugly self-assured
atop the middle throne.

I used to practice that smile
in the mirror.

Enough. I know how the scene ends.

But have you embraced its lessons?

Luminism.
The Sinker insurrection happening now.

Seldon all but drew you a to-do list.

And you ignored him.

Because he was a charlatan.

You offer nothing new.

Just a younger grape…

From the same vine,

destined for the same old bottle.

You can't save yourselves…

But you can save your legacy.

Hari Seldon is long dead.

Murdered by his protégé, no less.

The man was murdered.
But what about the movement, Brother?

Martyrs tend to have a long half-life.

Thanks to you, we are now staring down
the barrel

of a genuine diplomatic crisis.

What was I supposed to do, Lewis?

Let Phara kill me
and then move on to the kids?

You shouldn't have questioned her
without me.

Be glad I did. We know who she is now.

We have leverage.
We can bargain with her people.

If this choice
inflames the city into violence,

you have achieved
elaborate suicide for us all.

Didn't Hari say the Foundation
survives the first crisis?

Yes, he did.
But, as I've told you before,

you are an outlier.

- Meaning?
- Salvor.

Meaning that you weren't accounted for.

You have a connection with the Vault

which couldn't have possibly
have been predicted.

You are not baked into the model.

You're saying I'm
not part of God's plan.

I am saying psychohistory
can't account for individuals.

So you're saying
I've destroyed God's plan?

- It's time to take a step back, Salvor.
- Step back?

I thought the whole damn point
of the Foundation

was preparing for the unthinkable.

When I asked for more defensive weapons,

you said the likelihood of an attack
seemed remote.

When I wanted to run more drills,
nothing.

So here we are now, not prepared.

I might be an outlier,

but I'm not
the one screwing up the Plan, Lewis.

Lewis Pirenne, director.

Now, why would the Anacreon Council

send its highest-ranking
military officer

to an imperial outpost?

Is that what you're pretending
your little doomsday cult is?

Because I don't see the Empire anywhere.

All I see are academics, laborers
and very few guns.

You took down the comms buoy.

Of course. We wanted to operate
in private, away from prying eyes.

You have to know the Empire

will send
someone to investigate eventually.

Or is that the point?

Your women are so much sharper
than your men.

The barbarian kingdoms are exiled.
You have no business here.

"Barbarians."

Just a convenient slur
for anyone not like you.

Trantor left us all here to die.
Your people and mine.

We're just dying at different speeds.

The Foundation isn't dying.

We are fulfilling the mission
Hari Seldon entrusted us with.

Seldon also predicted that the fall
would begin

at the edge of the galaxy.

- Here.
- The same science

that saved the Imperial Palace
when the Star Bridge fell

protects Terminus City.

You mean your energy barrier?

Mmm.

A weapon's only as good as
the man who's wielding it.

Kalin, what's your situation?

It's getting pretty crowded over here.

- I think I need backup.
- Not happening.

Salvor saw a dozen. You're telling me
we've got Anacreons all over?

I'm telling you I'm seeing enough guns
to take out the whole town.

Empire.

The matter we discussed?

Her name is Azura Odili.
A palace botanist since the age of 13.

Her father, deceased, was also
an agroecologist in the gardens.

Her mother founded
a school for the ikebana, now closed.

You said there was a problem?

How are problems generally solved
in this situation?

Any manner that achieves its goal.

My job is to eliminate problems, Empire.

Azura Odili.

Oh-dee-lee? Oh-dih-lee?

Dee, Empire.

You were outside my chambers earlier.

- Want to know what you think you saw.
- I saw nothing, Empire.

No. I believe you saw something.

I only see what Empire wants me to see.

I could have you removed
from your station,

sent to scrub the
heat sinks on level 80.

I could do worse to you. Much worse.

You know all this.

Empire, Brother Dusk
has asked me to summon you.

Tell him I'm coming.

Remove this entire bed.

From my chambers
the smell of the blossoms

is overbearing.

- Empire, you needn't bother with this...
- It's settled. You can go.

Wolvesbreath helps with the pain.

The brownish-green leaves
with the red stripe.

They reduce the swelling and bruising...

I don't recall asking
for your medical advice.

Which?

The pointed leaves.

What is it?

Lupi spiritus.

Wolvesbreath, Empire.
From our medicinal garden.

It's an analgesic and vasodilator.

Is it poisonous?

No. Wolvesbreath is used in tea
as well as tinctures.

It stimulates the blood vessels,
promotes healing...

Eat it.

If you're not dead
within the next few hours,

have a kilogram of these
sent to my quarters.

Of course, Empire.

Laylo Fulham, get your ass back home
this instant!

Are they gonna get through?

Course not.

Go back to your home, people. Please.

It's not safe out here.
Back up. Back up.

You need to come out here. Now.

Kind of busy here, Yate.

I know, and I'm still calling.

We've got Anacreon's troops massing
from the east, west, south,

and presumably the north.

Remember how to hold a rifle, old man?

Barrel goes forward?

We've spotted Anacreons
at multiple locations outside the fence.

- I'll go west.
- We'll head north.

I shouldn't leave.

Lewis is completely
overmatched in there.

I'll babysit him, I promise.

All right.

Is it true? You got some kind of
Anacreon chieftain in there?

You been drinking, Muller?

It's the end of the galaxy, isn't it?
Hari's prediction's coming true.

You got hold of a bad rumor, Muller.
Local poacher's all.

They're already here, aren't they?

Hey, why don't you just
take a break for a second.

Hey!

I won't hurt you.

Just tell me who you are.

Sal.

Sal.

Sal. Hey, hey. What's wrong?

I was just in the Imperial Library
on Trantor.

- What do you mean you were there?
- I mean I was there. In the stacks.

The ceiling was wooden,
there were all these marble busts.

And there was a boy with a knife.

It was the same boy who
led me to the Anacreons.

It's the Vault. I can feel it, Hugo.
It's trying to tell me something

about the Anacreons and this crisis.
Everything.

Okay, listen to me.

I've always said you should
let this planet shrug you off.

But watching you work,

where you could
sense what Phara was feeling inside…

That's special.

Other people can't do that, Sal.

I have absolute faith in you.

I have absolute faith in you.

Who among you
is Master Statistician Tivole?

Empire. May the light never dim.

May the light never dim.

- You received my query.
- I did, Empire.

But I can't say yet we have the results.

How long has it been
since Dusk set you to this task?

Three decades?

What do you do
in your mausoleum of calculus

if not achieve results?

Progress, then. What is your progress?

We believe

the... the predictive models
of Hari Seldon to be counterfactual.

And you believe this why?

In the 35 years since Seldon uttered
his heretical proclamations,

the Imperium has expanded,

rather than
contracted, by every critical metric...

Stop.

Seldon's prophecies.

Speak to me of his math,
this "ordinal analysis."

It's a spread of fortune teller's cards

which Seldon chose
to interpret as divination.

Uh-huh.

The verification he found
in the regression models is unsupported.

But what of these...
these recent events?

The conclave? Luminism?

Baseless conjecture.
Again, vague and unsupported.

I mean, anyone could predict
a return to orthodoxy.

Psychohistory is the fanciful work
of an old man's imagination.

If it weren't the fanciful work
of an old man's imagination, what then?

What is the likelihood
that it's all true?

Every prophecy?

Vanishingly small, Empire.

But not zero.

Correct?

Not zero?

What kind of idiots are you?

A thousand imperial mathematicians…

…can't parse the numbers of one man?

So there's nothing
anyone in the galaxy can do?

Is that what it is?
Is that the best you've got?

Tell me. Tell me!

Tell me!

In the twilight of a man's life…

…When his biography is nearly complete,

he grows desperate to know
the measure of his days…

How his voice compares to
the chorus of those who've come before.

Do I matter? Are my choices my own?

Or is my destiny governed by
an unseen hand?

Brother Day. Come to see us off?

I was paid a visit
by your statisticians.

It's remarkable
how self-reinforcing their results are.

I think it's best that you stay
and tend to matters on Trantor.

Empire, a primary Cleon has not left
the bosom of Trantor

since the dawn of the Genetic Dynasty.

Demerzel is right.

We have these protocols in place
for a reason.

And I say our protocols have
made us complacent.

When you sat on the middle throne,
as I do now,

and were debating what to do about
Anacreon and Thespis,

what our response should be,
do you remember what you said?

I do.

Like it was yesterday.

I was seven.

Our eldest brother had argued
for a bout of grace.

You turned to me and said,
"What do you think, Ascending Dawn?"

I knew you were against grace,

that you wanted to bomb
the barbarian kingdoms.

But I was scared. And I dared say so.

Well, I'm not scared anymore.

On your watch,

the Star Bridge fell. And from
that scar insurgency was birthed.

On your watch,
two worlds were incinerated

with not a care to
innocence or consequence.

On your watch, Hari Seldon
and his followers were allowed to flee.

You have bequeathed me
an Empire rent by impulsive action.

The same will not be said of me.
Not on my watch.

I would save our legacy.

Brother…

You are haunted by
the ghost of a man long dead.

We all are, Brother.

Your watch is over.

You will stay on Trantor,

tending to
the wounds you have allowed to fester.

Go.

Return Brother Dusk's belongings
to the palace.

Certainly now the Empire will
no longer be rent by impulsive action.

You summoned me, Empire?

A communications buoy has gone dark
in the Outer Reach.

Take your team and investigate.

At once, Empire.

Dorwin.

Our dispatches from the Foundation
have become sporadic.

Pay them a visit.

And remind the Foundation that
Empire will not be kept in the dark.

- Is that, uh...
- Doesn't look good, does it?

Who is in charge here, Lewis? You?

Or is it the Warden
with the coin tricks?

Because it seems
she's managed to complicate matters.

- Let me be clear, Huntress Keaen...
- Grand Huntress.

The only reason we have a crisis

is because you trespassed
on the Emperor's personal domain.

If only Salvor had taken me to the tower
and given me what I'd wanted,

we'd already be off-planet.

The module from our slow ship?

It's not as if
your people have any use for it.

You're marooned on Terminus.
The Empire made sure of that.

Lewis.

Why do you need it?

My people are technologically bankrupt.

We're dying, Director.

We have been ever since the Empire
set our atmosphere on fire.

Half our population lost
for a crime that we were innocent of.

Unlike you, we have ships.

We can leave our poisoned world,
find another star system.

If only we had
the means to navigate the void.

The Empire would crush us
for assisting you.

We're forcing your hand, Director.

Because we have nothing left to lose.

You can't play chess

with someone
who's willing to set the board on fire.

Is that some kind of flak cannon?

Wasting their time if they think
that's gonna penetrate the fence.

None of this feels right.
Phara is smarter than this.

They took out the comms buoy,
and they came in prepared.

There's a larger strategy here,
and I am missing it somehow.

What if I take my ship,
make a run for the stars, get help?

No, no. They'd shoot you out of the sky

before you ever made it into orbit.

Regretting you didn't bug out
when you had the chance?

Done a lot of foolish things in my life,
Salvor Hardin.

Sticking by your side
is not one of them.

Best manservant ever.

The Vault isn't Anacreon…

Or alien at all.

It's gotta be connected to Hari.

How do you know that?

Because the vision I saw
when I blacked out,

it was on Trantor in Hari's library,

with a boy holding a knife on me.

What if it was a warning to stay away?

What if Lewis is right?

I'm an outlier, just like he says,

barging around, knocking things over,

screwing up Seldon's plan?

Salvor, what if you are Seldon's plan?

The fate of one individual
will always remain a mystery.

Remember my promise, Warden?
Razing your city to the ground?

But the movements of masses,

the rise and falls of cultures,
causes and worlds…

These were answers
Hari Seldon had long since unriddled.

It's time.

And the beginning of the end,
as befitting its name,

took place on Terminus.