“Rules of engagement?” he asked.
The first time Private Marcus “Mav” Chen slid into the cockpit of the PC-MAV , he felt like a fraud. The Programmable Combat Multi-domain Aerial Vehicle wasn’t just a drone—it was a ghost. A chameleon with teeth. And they’d given it to a twenty-two-year-old farm kid from Nebraska who still flinched at loud noises. pc mav
Then the lead bogie banked hard. Straight toward an American radar station on Little Diomede Island. “Rules of engagement
Mav exhaled. The PC-MAV hummed beneath him, its six variable-configuration rotors folded flush against a fuselage no bigger than a compact car. In stealth mode, it was invisible to radar, heat, and sound. In assault mode, it could pull 18 G’s—enough to turn a human pilot into jam if they weren’t careful. A chameleon with teeth
“One down,” Mav said. “Two to go.”
“I see them,” Mav said.