the Soviet Union still remain. I am prepared at any time to present my evidence against the Soviet Union in this forum.
'That is understood, Ambassador Adams,' Karmarov said.
'As part of the agreement between our governments, I would like to make the following statement: 'The government of the Soviet Union pleads nolo contendere before the Security Council of the United Nations in response to the charges brought against us by the government of the United States. The Soviet Union acknowledges, incomplete evidence notwithstanding, that activity at the Kavaznya research facility may have caused a situation to develop in which an American aircraft in the vicinity may have experienced difficulties of an unknown type or severity. It is not known for certain if such difficulties resulted in the loss of the aircraft.
'The government of the United States acknowledges that their RC-135 intelligence aircraft was within the Air Defense Identification Zone at the time of question,' Karmarov continued, 'without proper identification, without a properly filed flight plan, and without clearance from any Soviet controlling agency. The United States has not confirmed that the plane was on a spy mission, which my government condemns, but-' 'But that doesn't mean any-' Adams interrupted.
'I was going to say,' Karmarov said, his voice rising, 'that the military air defense operators on duty did not take the proper action in the case of such an intrusion, nor did they warn the aircraft of ongoing activity that may have serious effects on aircraft in the area.
'In the spirit of peace and international harmony, therefore, the government of the Soviet Union has agreed to cooperate in the investigation into the causes of the loss of the American spy plane.
In return, the United States has consented'to let the Soviet Union enter a plea of no contest to its charges until that investigation is completed. As to the matter of possible interference with free-flying aircraft and the alleged negligence of Soviet military operators, we request that the Security Council reserve judgment until a complete analysis of the controller's transcripts and records can be completed.
' Karmarov put his head down over his notes and, reading quickly and unemotionally, continued: 'The Soviet Union extends its regrets to the families of those lost near our shores.
We assure all concerned that we will do everything in our power to resolve the matter. Thank you. 'The Russian translator barely was able to spit out the last few sentences trying to keep up with Karmarov. The Russian put his notes down and glanced at the assembled ambassadors.
Ambassador Braunmueller, the representative from East Germany, stood and held out his hands to Karmarov. 'Your statement, Comrade Ambassador,' he said, 'was magnificent.
The Soviet Union's willingness to cooperate with the investigation and their openness is to be commended.''They haven't admitted to anything… ' Adams said, but he was drowned out by Braunmueller's booming voice.
'Mr. Secretary-General, I move that final judgment be reserved until the full results of the investigation are presented.
'Seconded,' another ambassador said.
'I, too,' McCaan said, 'am impressed and heartened by the spirit of cooperation exhibited by the Soviet Union. I call for a vote.
Adams abstained. As he expected, the vote was unanimous.
'Nemine contradicente,' McCaan announced. 'Let the record show the vote is unanimous. The plea of nolo contendere is to be officially entered. The matter involving the charges against the government of the Soviet Union is hereby suspended indefinitely.
'The government of the United States is hereby requested by the Security Council of the United Nations to respect the spirit of cooperation exhibited by the Soviet Union by cooperating fully with their government in the investigation of the aircraft disaster and not to retaliate or otherwise impose any restrictions or sanctions against the Soviet Union because of this incident.'
McLanahan was alone inside the bomber, inside the plastic skinned, stifling Old Dog. Hal Briggs was with him, watching the activities in the downstairs compartment and taking notes, but effectively McLanahan was alone with the bomber and its equipment.
They were flying three hundred feet above the high desert and looming mountain ranges of Nevada. McLanahan was studying the radar scope, which was now in TTG, or Target Tracking and Guidance mode, searching for attacking fighters.
If he spotted any fighters, he would put a circle cursor on it and tell Campos that he was tracking a target. The computer would feed range, azimuth, elevation, direction, and airspeed information to the Scorpion air-to-air missiles and with that information a hit was almost guaranteed.
But the scope was blank and had been for several minutes, and Wendy Tork in the electronic warfare section had reported no airborne interceptor radar signals. McLanahan could feel a j cold, prickly sensation on his neck. The mountains were too damn close.
He glanced at his chart. Some of the highest mountain ranges in southern Nevada were right off the nose, and he felt uncomfortable not monitoring their position by radar, even though the automatic terrain-avoidance system had proved its reliability.
Well, damn the fighters, McLanahan thought to himself. If the aircraft hits a mountain, the fighters won't matter.
'He punched a button, thinking about the twenty-first century equipment guiding their two-hundred-ton bomber. The blank track-while-scan radar scope changed into a mapping display of the terrain within thirty miles of the Old Dog. Guided by a ring of satellites and by a tiny 'game-cartridge' of terrain elevations, the Old Dog was automatically diving and climbing, attempting to hug the ground as close as possible.
The satellites, orbiting in geosynchronous orbits twenty-three thousand miles above the Earth, told them exactly where they were; the Inertial Navigation System, INS, told them where they were going; and the computer, ROM, Reading Only Memory, terrain-data cartridge told them how high the terrain was.
A computer fed all this to the autopilot, which told the Old Dog-what a damn stupid name, McLanahan thought-when to climb or dive, and the autopilot would climb or dive in time to keep the plane within a few feet of the selected clearance plane setting. Simple.
Except it wasn't working. His terrain-mapping scope was almost blank, but for a completely different reason. A five-mile-long ridge loomed ahead, its tree-lined crest still seven hundred feet above the Old Dog's altitude. The ridge cast a dark shadow behind it, as if the radar beam was a headlight being blocked by an oncoming brick wall.
McLanahan knew that if the shadow behind the ridge got larger instead of smaller they'd eventually plow into the ridge.
At over seven hundred feet per second, the two-hundred-ton bomber would smear itself right up and over the ridge and scatter pieces of itself for tens of miles beyond. The radar altimeter readout on the video display was flashing, warning that the aircraft was below the desired terrain clearance altitude.
McLanahan glanced at the flight instruments. The vertical velocity indicator was showing a climb, but it didn't seem like a very steep one. The ridge was now only three miles away, and the shadow beyond blotted out all else right to the edge of the scope.
'High terrain, three miles,' McLanahan reported over the interphone.
'I've lost TTG signals, navigator,' Campos radioed to McLanahan.
He quickly glanced at the annotations he had placed on the chart the night before. 'Elevation eight thousand feet,' McLanahan asked. 'Blank scope. Not painting over it. Also a blinking radar altimeter.'
The terrain-avoidance computer was not designed tofollow the contours of the surrounding hills and valleys as it would in the B-1 Excalibur or the FB-111 — The B-52 didn't have enough power. The terrain-avoidance system anticipated the terrain ahead of the aircrafts flight path and chose a safe altitude to clear it, as close to the pilot- selected clearance plane setting as possible. Approaching a ridge, the altitude should not be less won than the selected altitude-it should be more. Much more. And the Old Dog should be climbing a lot faster…
'Pilot, climb!' McLanahan ordered. The plane suddenly jumped, nearly tripling its former climb rate, and the throttles were jammed to full military thrust. The airspeed, however, bled off rapidly as the Old Dog traded altitude for airspeed, crawling skyward.
The radar scope was blank. The ridge was less than one mile off the nose… eight seconds before impact…
