But then in the '90s Dickson felt it necessary to explicate the historical and psychological origins of Ahrens, and so we got a prequel consisting of Young Bleys (1991), in which the youthful Bleys Ahrens matures under harsh conditions and first realizes his destiny, and Other (1994), wherein Bleys and his competitive half-brother Dahno set about conquering the 16 settled worlds of humanity, to protect humanity from itself.

Now comes the concluding volume of the prequel trilogy, completed posthumously by Dickson's longtime aide and assistant, which unfortunately leaves the main narrative thrust of the Cycle still untold.

At the start of Antagonist, Bleys and company rule five worlds out of the 16 through their secret organization of "Others" (hybrid humans embodying the best of the three cultures known as Dorsai, Friendlies and Exotics) and are methodically working toward complete control of all planets, saving the most powerful, Old Earth, for last. Next up on their list is Ceta, an important mercantile world, where the Other network is run by one Pallas Salvador. Bleys, Dahno and a select group that includes Toni Lu (Bley's female best friend) and Henry MacLean (the stepfather of Bleys and Dahno, who also runs the military arm of the Others) set out for Ceta. There they discover plots within plots and other secret cabals that threaten their plans. In the end, by the novel's halfway mark, Bleys and company are triumphant on that world.

But now Hal Mayne, a mysterious young man associated with the nexus of all knowledge, the Final Encyclopedia, begins to intrude. It seems that Mayne has an alternate scheme to guide humanity's future, and a showdown between Bleys and him is inevitable. But who will die as collateral damage in their contest? And will either man be able to impose his vision on the unwitting herd of humanity?

A large ambition only partially realized

Originally, it was to be so simple and symmetrical: Three historical novels, three contemporary novels and three SF novels would illustrate the author's theme of how three traits of humanity—courage, faith and philosophy, as embodied in numerous individuals throughout time—had determined and would determine the race's development and destiny.

But then the realities of what was marketable, what the author was capable of writing and the unpredictable exfoliations of the author's ideas gained the upper hand, and what we readers were left with were zero historical novels, zero mimetic novels and 10 related volumes of SF (with Antagonist being number 11). Still, even this assortment of books is a grand accomplishment, fit to stand beside such future histories as Asimov's Foundation cycle and Herbert's Dune cycle, with both of which it resonates at points. (Bleys as the Mule, Mayne as Paul Atreides, and so forth.)

This current volume must be judged on two fronts: Does it stand up as the conclusion of the prequel trilogy, and does it carry forward Dickson's tone, style and themes successfully?

To tackle the latter question first: Wixon—who as a close co-worker received public thanks as far back as Other—has managed to create a seamless pastiche of his own writing and whatever text Dickson left at his death. Characterizations and plotting are consistent with the earlier books. Good emotional hooks to past incidents are inserted. Backstory is carefully layered in.

But nonetheless there's something indefinable missing, to my ears. A kind of urgency or stridency, a certain quasi-demented, messianic, A.E. van Vogt-level belief in the vitality of the issues being debated, which I found in the prior two books. Antagonist reads, in parts and on some subliminal but perceptible level, as the work of a devoted acolyte, not the master himself.

But what of this prequel trilogy as a whole? My lord, is it wordy and static and preachy. What action there is—and give Wixon credit for trying to open with a bang—is totally outweighed by endless blathering about ways and means, methodology and reasons, historical forces and the "tapestry of time." Bleys is supposed to be a superman of sorts, harking all the way back to Philip Wylie's Gladiator (1930). But whereas Wylie's hero was full of the juices of life, Bleys is constipated and seems to suffer from Asperger's syndrome. Here's what passes for pillow talk between him and Toni:

"I didn't mean to distract you," Toni said. "You were talking about war and historical forces." She was tucked under his arm and leaning into him, cheek against his chest.

"I never realized my mention of the historical forces raised such bad connotations for you," Bleys said. "To me they're just a neutral force in the background of life ..."

This prequel trilogy seems to have calcified since the exciting action spiced with Big Ideas that I recall from my long-ago reading of The Genetic General (1959). (And there's a whiff of yesterday's tomorrows about it as well, especially in the notion of the centralized Final Encyclopedia versus the distributed reality of the Internet.) It seems relevant to me that Dickson spent the final years of his life working not on the Childe books but rather on his fluffy Dragon Knight series. I think he had gotten himself hung up in a morass of complications, or lost interest in the project, a blow from which perhaps no posthumous collaboration, however well meant, can rescue it.