Jinye Attani Cocon has just had her face changed. She doesn't know what to think of the few face, yet; it isn't really hers, it's Ajian Madurai's. Ajian Madurai, two inches taller than Jinye (which ought to provide some realistic clumsiness, until she adjusts), Ajian Madurai, who wears glasses (and, though this has not been changed, needs to wear glasses), Ajian Madurai who has darker skin and a just slightly different facial shape, enough that not one of Jinye's classmates will notice her.
She doesn't know what ship she's being transported in, but she knows where she's going. Varayapoli, the Shield, Tsirona, the Grannus system. A minor imperial possession. There she goes with forty-three of her schoolmates, the forty-three that didn't drop out, to die for the Attani Empire. And - to battle, to scheme, to rule. She had her homework all prepared, mnemonic tricks for making even her extraordinary memory better; her brain is stuffed with Tsironan manners - the commanders of all the Attani divisions - system vulnerabilities in military software - she can picture elements of her inevitable victory in her head, but so much will depend on the next six months; on whether Kion is viceroy, on where Siro lands, on just who her most brilliant rivals choose to be.
(She misses Siro. She wasn't expecting it to be this bad, but she misses him. Well, they can get in touch as soon as she touches down.)