All rights to EA and Bioware, this is a fan work.
I just want to clear a few things up here before the story really gets going. First, this is not the Sith Empire. While much of the ideals of the Old Empire have been carried over, they are still closer to what the Alliance is in canon, albeit leaning much more towards renegade than paragon. They don't practice slavery, they don't murder each other at the slightest inconvenience, and their main focus is building up their civilization. Two, Turbolasers are a pain to get any sort of consistent measure on, so for the purpose of this fic I will be using the destruction of Taris as a baseline for their power. Meaning that a ship with 16 heavy turbolasers, like the Leviathan in KOTOR, can raze a planet in a timely manner from high orbit, about 10,000km. Meaning they can blast through a duracrete skyscraper like it was a sand castle from that distance if it is standing still. I've narrowed effective range to about a quarter of that so they can reliably hit a moving target from 2,500km onward and can almost always hit at half of that. Third, hyperspace is ridiculously fast compared to Mass Effect FTL, even in the slowest estimates possible. The most concrete answer about how fast hyperspace gets is that it can cross light-years in a matter of minutes. So I'm going to try and be generous to Mass Effect and say that two lightyears per minute is around the average speed of hyperspace, granted they will still have to deal with the hazards of hyperspace so it is not like they can go anywhere they want at any time.
With that out of the way, enjoy.
In the not-so-distant future, in a galaxy not so far away…
Sith Effect
Episode I: First Contact
The Sith Alliance rises! After mastering the technology of their ancestors, The Sith Empire, the Alliance experiences a new age of colonization across the stars. Using the Mass Relays, they spread quickly into uncharted space. New worlds become available for them to conquer and bring into their growing civilization, in preparation for their eventual fight against The Reapers.
The latest Colony, Shanxi, has undergone the initial stages of population and is prospering. Being the farthest colony out, it has become a staging point for charting new hyperspace lanes into unknown territory and is frequented by Sith Lords and their Apprentices who wish to make their names during the expeditionary missions.
One such mission is to activate the dormant relay at the system's edge for further expansion opportunities. However, the 1st Expeditionary Fleet has been delayed and left the activation team without the protection of their Star Destroyers. Having already received orders from high command, the team prepares for the unknown, unaware of what awaits them…
The massive tuning fork looking construct floats in place against the backdrop of open space, unmoving and inactive, as two vessels draw nearer to it. The smaller of the two is boxy with two wings protruding down each of its sides. The larger of the two overshadows its companion. The vessel is a long and slender wedge with two sets of wings protruding off the back near its large engines. Its laser batteries all face forward as it approaches the Mass Relay.
Upon the bridge, many officers and technicians in grey uniforms work at their consoles as astromech droids roll across the walkways and security troopers stand at the ready. At the head of the room, a single man stands looking out upon the relay with his molten gold and red eyes. He wears a dark cloak over metal armor plates and bears a stern expression upon his withered face. His eyes remain locked onto the structure, as if assessing it.
"Does it bring back memories of the first relay, Lord Grissom?" comes a voice from behind him.
He turns to see a decorated officer approach from the rear of the bridge, "Captain Stolas," Lord Grissom nods in acknowledgement, "Not quite, I'm afraid."
The captain steps beside the Sith Lord, "Something have your mind preoccupied, Milord? You seem, if you don't mind me saying so, rather distracted."
Grissom closes his eyes and lets out his breath, "The Force is stirring. I've never felt anything like it before, no other relay I've been present to activate, including Sol's, filled me with such excitement and yet such a sensation of foreboding as well."
"I understand, Milord, even the activation team was getting restless and high command has been impatient with charting new systems for colonization. However, our mission is only to activate the relay and bring the Scarlet Fang and research vessel to the other side and back, nothing more. No exploring for us quite yet, the fleet will be here in a week for that."
"And should we happen to discover the Reapers on the other side waiting for us? Or whatever might be this galaxy's version of the Jedi, perhaps?" Grissom comments.
"If we do find them waiting for us, we will face them as Sith," Stolas responds with a smirk, "Without fear and without remorse, and take as many with us as we can. Should we die, the Alliance will avenge us."
"Don't be so quick to rush in towards certain death," Grissom chuckles, "History seldom remembers those looking to die."
"Sir," a coms officer calls out, "The activation team is within range of the relay. They want final approval before commencing."
"Granted," the captain answers, "Let's get this over with then."
The officer relays the order, and the smaller vessel flies closer to the relay. After some time, the blue core glows and the inner rings spin. The bridge cheers as the construct flares to life.
"Confirmed relay activation," the comms officer says.
"Pity you left your former apprentice on Shanxi, he would have loved to see this," the captain says to the old Sith Lord.
"Jason will have plenty more opportunities to see them in his lifetime, I assure you. When I finally retire from my duties, he will likely take my place standing upon these many ceremonies with his own apprentices."
"Sir, the activation team is now waiting for the response from the other side's activation."
"Very good, once we receive confirmation of response, we will run through the last few checks and prepare for relay jump."
Grissom's countenance turns sober as he looks back out to the relay, "Still, I can't help but feel the Dark Side stirring. Like conflict awaits…"
As the Sith's mission unfolds, at the far end of the relay jump, a patrol fleet of slender ships cruses close to the relay, fifteen in total, nine smaller than the other six. Massive guns protrude out of the front of each ship as they fly in tight formation. On the command deck of the lead vessel, spiky avian beings work at their consoles as one sits overseeing the lot of them. Though he looks out into the blackness of space with a disciplined stoicism, he struggles to stifle a yawn from his mandibles.
"I have no idea what I've done to Palaven high command but Spirits they must despise me. Finally promoted to Captain, and I'm stuck patrolling," he mutters, "What are we even doing out here?"
"Cheer up, Captain Cicerus," says another officer holding a steaming cup, "Two more weeks and we're on shore leave. Care for a drink, sir?"
"Thank you, Tulliun, and yes I would," Cicerus accepts the cup, "Two more weeks circling this middle of nowhere section of space with no pirates, mercenaries, or even the Spirit's damned quarians. Just a dead relay…"
"Sir, relay 314, it's activating!" an officer at a console shouts.
"What? How did a ship evade our sensors?!" Cicerus demands, "And who would be dumb enough to violate Citadel law right in front of us?"
"Sir, we're not picking up any ships. It appears to be activating from the other side."
Circerus' eyes widen, "Spirits… is this first contact? These idiots! Don't they understand the dangers of recklessly opening the relays?"
"They are either incredibly naive or truly fearless," the lieutenant adds.
"Orders, sir?" the lieutenant inquires.
He looks at the console displaying the information before opening a channel, "Attention all vessels, this is Captain Cicerus of the command ship, Spear of Justice. Primitives have violated Citadel law by opening relay 314. The punishment is clear on this matter, they must be detained, by force if necessary. Send a message out to high command that we've made first contact with a potential client race. With luck, we'll be bringing them into the galactic community under our jurisdiction."
"Yes sir!" the bridge responds as they rush to battle stations.
After a few minutes of waiting, a turian appears in the hologram projector, "Captain Cicerus."
The captain salutes, "Admiral Septemus, Sir, Relay 314 has been activated. We believe it is a primitive race on the other side. Requesting permission to traverse the relay to enforce Citadel law and requesting reinforcements to bring this race into civility as a client race of the Hierarchy."
Septemus smiles at the captain, "Permission granted. Well done, Captain, I will move my fleet to your location. Suppress whatever force is activating the relay and scout ahead for our invasion. Luckily my fleet has just put down a small pirate base close to your location that can reinforce you in a few days' time."
"Thank you, Sir," Cicerus responds as the hologram disappears.
Cicerus sits up in his chair as the ships all take formation for the jump, ignoring the dark shiver down his back.
"Everything checks out green, sir. We are ready for relay jump," the logistics officer says.
"Lower the deflector shields for our transit and give the all-clear for the research vessel to proceed," Stolas orders.
The ships' shields dissipate, and the two vessels fall back to take the proper approach to the relay. As they begin to move forward again, the relay flares to life, "What's going on?!
The crew look over their instruments, "We don't know sir. We haven't done… Wait, something is coming through."
The turian patrol emerges from the relay transit and hold their position close to the massive tuning fork shaped construct, "What in the…"
"Sir!" another officer shouts, "I'm detecting increased energy build up from the foreign vessels."
"Activate scanners, I want to know what we are dealing…
A blue lights streak through space and strikes the Scarlet Fang's thrusters as the ship is rocked from the powerful impact. More streaks of blue carve into at the durasteel hull and alarms start going off, "Kalig Damn It! Reengage the deflector shields!" Stolas orders.
After a few more hits, the ship is enveloped in a faint glow and the blue steaks ripple against the shields.
"Damage reports!" Stolas demands.
"Captain, our engines are hit, we've lost 30% of our thruster capacity. Superficial damage to the hull but no breaches. All other system operating normally.
"The activation team's vessel was hit as well, they're gone, sir."
"Damnation!" Captain Stolas hisses.
"Focus, Captain," Grissom snaps him back to the situation, "We need a plan."
Stolas nods, "How are our shields holding?"
"They're holding well enough for now, but we won't last forever just sitting here and our ability to evade is diminished thanks to their initial barrage."
"Scans are picking up fifteen vessels of unknown design, all with altered gravity fields. They must be using the same technology of the relays."
Stolas pales hearing this, "You mean, these are the Reapers?"
"I doubt it," Grissom answers, "The Reapers could take on the Old Empire's Star Destroyers, if we survived half their barrage unshielded, they are likely just using similar technology."
"Sir another volley is inbound from the hostiles."
Stolas goes to work, "Get a message out to the Shanxi patrol, tell them to send any reinforcements they can."
"Yes, Sir!" the various officers' reply.
The shields flare to life again as the bolts slam against them, "All hands to battle stations! Get the turbolasers online and prepare to fire on my command."
As orders are being thrown around, Lord Grissom approaches the communications terminal, "Open a channel on every frequency available to us and start haling, I would have a talk with these aliens that would dare attack us. Prepare a language translation protocol see if we can interpret their response and create a language index."
"At once, Milord." the comms man replies.
As the third barrage fires off at the Scarlet Fang, Cicerus looks upon the ship with a curious eye from his own bridge.
"The barriers and armor on Contact One appear to be holding strong sir but they've yet to return fire."
Cicerus nods his head, "Perhaps they have devoted their research into defenses instead of weapons if their barriers can withstand so many shots. Order our ships to approach, load disruptor torpedoes, and prep boarding teams we'll want to take this ship back in one piece for study. They seem rather wide and inefficient for an eezo core to power."
"Actually, Sir," the officer begins, "I'm detecting no Element Zero from these ships."
Cicerus' head bolts towards the officer, "What?! None?!"
"They must not even be FTL capable. Fresh out of their home system," Lieutenant Tulliun adds.
The communication console beeps as several channels light up, "Sir, Contact One is hailing us on open channels, several open channels."
"They must be desperate seeing our overwhelming firepower. Open it up so that we may hear their surrender," Cicerus commands.
After a few moments the holodeck lights up and Lord Grissom appears before the bridge, "Alien hostiles, I am Lord Jon Grissom of the Sith Alliance destroyer, Scarlet Fang. You have invaded Sith space. Cease your attack at once or suffer the consequences of attacking the Sith Alliance," he orders in Sith Basic.
"They resemble asari somewhat, except smoother and with fur on their heads," the lieutenant comments.
"If you do not cease hostilities, you will be declared an enemy of the Sith Alliance and will be destroyed," Grissom continues, "Halt your approach and remove your warships or we will retaliate."
"Do they even realize we can't understand them?" the comms officer ponders out loud.
"I doubt these primitives even have any kind of translation program. Still, we shall send a message back, demanding their surrender. We can say we tried."
"Sir they've transmitted a message back to us."
"How kind of them, now we can shout back at them in a language they actually understand," Stolas growls, "Run it through for analysis."
A turian appears on the holo-comm, speaking, if one might call it that, in a rough pattern of sound to the humans' ears. The message ends moments later as Grissom and Stolas glance at each other and then to the officer at the comms.
"Was that enough of a sample for proper translation of these scaly birds' language?"
After a few moments of running the message through the many recorded languages of the old empire, the man pipes up, "Yes sir, it may be a little rough, but it should be workable enough to understand."
"Let's see what these curs want," growls Grissom.
They play the message through the translator and Captain Cicerus reappears on the holo, "Primitive (ship/vessel), I am (Leader/Commander/Conductor) Cicerus of the (numbered) (species) patrol fleet of the (Species) Hierarchy. You have (damaged/broken/torn) (Citadel/Tower/Castle) law by activating a (sleeping/inactive/dormant) relay. You are to (surrender/submit) yourselves over to our (control/authority/power) for your crimes against the galaxy. Any (resistance/defense) will be met with deadly (attack/force/retaliation). Once your species (submits/surrenders) or is (pacified/destroyed) as needs be, you will be (uplifted/taken) as our (client/subservient/slave) race. Do not (resist/defend), you cannot win."
The message ends and the crew looks… irked. Many within earshot sneer and scoff at the words given and the tone of the translation. None, however, compare to the anger permeating off Lord Grissom. Darkness and rage radiate from his very being. Yet… he laughs.
And the crew shudders.
"So, these featherless birds believe that they have any right to attack us, make us into their slaves. Uplift us? Punish us? The pinnacle of all sentient life in this galaxy and any other, like we are some misguided children?"
His laughter stops as a nearby astromech is crushed by the Force before being sliced to smoldering pieces by a crimson blade.
"Captain, are you ready to follow through with those words before about hostile aliens?" Grissom asks as his lightsaber deactivates.
The captain, also snarling at the turian's remarks, "Undeniably, Milord. Though we don't have much in the way of alternative solutions. We're too close to the relay to enter hyperspace and we can't make a relay jump without first lowering our shields and get closer to the enemy. Our engines are too damaged to run, we can't take evasive maneuvers, and our shields won't last forever against their long-range guns. We have no choice but to fight, and I have no plans to do anything less than show these aliens exactly how 'primitive' we are."
"Captain, hostiles are moving in on our position, their weapons are still firing."
"Then charge to meet them," Stolas orders, "Get them in range of our turbolasers and open fire!"
The Scarlet Fang's damaged thrusters flare and the ship flies off to meet its enemies, shield holding against their mass accelerator rounds. Once the destroyer crosses the 2,500-kilometer mark, turbolaser turrets swivel and take aim at the closest vessel.
The barrage catches the frigate off guard as bolts crash against the hull of the ship, ignoring the barriers protecting it. All it takes is five volleys and the frigate explodes as its decks are shredded and its core breached. The Scarlet Fang bridge cheers as they destroy the ship.
"Are these ships even armored?" Stolas asks.
"Perhaps they rely solely on range," an officer comments.
Lord Grissom brings his hand to his chin, "No, they started charging in on us, they must have thought they could win at closer ranges."
"Shield integrity is falling sir, but we can continue," another officer yells.
"Good, then target the next one, leave these fools in pieces," Stolas orders.
On the Spear of Justice's bridge, the crew is silent as the second frigate before them is ripped apart, "Spirits… They completely bypassed our barriers! Evasive maneuvers now! Avoid their weapon fire at all costs and launch all torpedoes as soon as you are able."
"Sir, their weapons seem to have a more limited range. Should we not retreat to a safe distance and continue our bombardment?"
"If we did that, we may exhaust our cores against their barrier and leave ourselves completely at their mercy. We need to bring their defenses down or we won't be able to cripple them," Cicerus responds.
The frigates launch disruptor torpedoes, and the destroyer is swarmed with alerts. Their point defense guns are overwhelmed as the torpedoes crash into the deflector shield. The space around detonation is warped, and the shields overheat as the ship rocks. As the bridge regains itself Grissom shakes the dizziness away.
"Damage report," he orders.
"Shield integrity is down to 37%, Milord, but the shock disrupted our targeting protocols and knocked out several other power systems across the ship, recalibrating now."
"Divert as much power to shields as you can and launch concussion missiles," Grissom orders, "Target the frigates."
"Small vessels inbound, I believe they might be boarding parties."
"Turbolasers won't be calibrated in time and missiles are still loading."
"Order all marines to the hanger, I don't want them anywhere close to the bridge," Stolas commands.
"They're not moving towards the hanger, they are docking at the air locks," the radar officer replies.
"Strange," Stolas hums.
Grissom walks away, "Order your men to protect the engines, the reactor, and the bridge."
"Milord, where are you going?" Stolas asks.
He smirks, "Pheasant hunting."
The airlock bursts open and turians spill into the corridor. They raise their weapons and march into the ship. The dim emergency lighting blinks as pieces of the ship's interior fall out of place. The soldiers step around the debris and work towards the direction of the bridge.
"These primitives sure love their gunmetal and red," one says.
"Focus," the leader hisses as they pass an intersecting hallway, find it clear, and move on.
The last soldier through, however, is pulled away with a scream, followed by a sharp buzz and two loud thuds. The squad turns back to face the enemy but find only the smoking pieces of their comrade cut in half from shoulder to hip.
The leader stifles a gasp, "What in the…"
"AAAaaahhh…" another interrupts as he flies away from the group.
The squad turns in the direction of their taken comrade, only for that buzzing sound to return as a red light radiates behind them. Two are cut down by Lord Grissom's crimson blade before the others can turn and fire. The first shot pings off his shoulder pauldron as he dodges the rest, cutting down two more in close proximity. He pulls his outstretched free hand back towards his chest and the turians' weapons are yanked from their grasps.
One thinks fast and charges, an orange blade forming around their hand. Grissom blocks the attack, and his lightsaber eats into the mass effect field. His free hand grabs the turian soldier by the throat and crushes its windpipe. He then launches the body into the remaining two, knocking one to the floor and pouncing on the other. As he kills his target, he stabs the downed one in the chest leaving only one soldier left.
Grissom deactivates his blade and marches across the hall, to the soldier he pushed away. He lifts the alien in the air with telekinesis and pulls him close. The turian struggles as Grissom pulls out his holo-communicator and holds it between them.
"If you want to stay alive, you do exactly as I say," Grissom growls as his holo-comm repeats the message in the turian language.
On the other side of the ship, more turians are on the move, through the dark corridors. As their leader peaks around a corner, he catches men in black and red armor setting up cover and gun emplacements, behind them a large machine hums loud enough to be heard from the turians' position.
"Bravo Two, reporting, we've located the ship's core, disabling now," he says to to his glowing omni-tool.
He primes a grenade and gives a signal with his talons. The team rush out and fire weapons, the leader throwing the grenade in the middle of the group. The troopers dive for cover as the metal explosive detonates, flinging away one of the slower men and destroying the gun emplacement. The turians take cover in the divots of the wall as the troopers return fire.
"Die Alien!"
Bolts of red plasma fly through the corridor and strike at the turian soldiers. Shots to the armor knock the turians off their feet, the ones that hit flesh tear it apart. The streaks of blue mass accelerated rounds strike one trooper in the shoulder, shattering his armor and sending him to his knees. His comrades provide cover fire as another trooper rushes in and sprays him with bacta.
One trooper emerges from cover with a cannon in both his hands. He cranks the handle and fires a volley of explosives at the turians in cover. They fall back as the other alliance troopers open fire on them.
"Advance!" shouts the assault trooper.
The turians make a hasty retreat but as they near the airlock they are stopped by a metal monstrosity with a boxy body, four legs, and guns for arms. They fire upon it, but the rounds simply spark off its metal frame. The battle droid clicks and beeps before gunning them down with its twin blaster cannons. The turians fight on but fall one after another as the squad of troopers catches up and open fires from behind. The last of the boarding party falls to the battle droid's cannons and the troopers secure the airlock.
"Bravo One, come in," the comms officer says to the console, "Bravo One, come in. Bravo Two, report! We've lost contact with our boarding teams, sir."
"They must be jamming them somehow," Cicerus responds, "Launch the next volley of torpedoes, bring their shield down."
The next wave of warheads fire and barrage the ship's shields. They withstand the detonation and continue to fly forward launching missiles at the turian frigates. As the missiles impact the closest frigate and the destroyer fires upon the next ship, the boarding vessels latched onto the destroyer's airlocks explode into pieces. The bridge is frozen for a few seconds before the communication terminal picks up an alert.
The officer gulps, "It's Contact One, sir…"
"Put them on," he growls at his subordinate.
The hologram lights up, this time displaying Lord Grissom, Captain Stolas, and a lone turian soldier on his knees. Both the officer and Lord sneer at Cicerus, who eyes the scant signs of battle damage on Lord Grissom's attire. The harrowed expression on his soldier's face tells him what transpired aboard the Sith vessel.
"Can you understand us now, alien?" Stolas spits.
Cicerus' eyes widen as their speech comes through in rough but intelligible turian, "It took some time to analyze, but our protocol programs were able to crack your language," Grissom begins, "It only took slightly more time to despatch your soldiers than it did deciphering your crude tongue, turians."
"He cut them to pieces, sir," the soldier begins, "He used bioti…"
Grissom drives his boot into the soldier's back and crushes him into the floor, "Speak unpermitted again and you'll be fortunate if you are dragged back to Sol with any of your limbs still attached."
"Who in the Spirits' names are you?" Cicerus barks them.
Stolas huffs, "We are the Sith Alliance, conquerors of the galaxy. You have trespassed in our space and have murdered our people. Such impudence will not go unpunished."
Cicerus scoffs at the assertions of the captain, "Primitive races are all the same, they all believe that getting off their rock of a home planet somehow destines them for greatness. You are nowhere close to being the dominant race in the galaxy, you're just another barbaric race that's grown far too ambitious for their own good and need to be shown the order of things before you cause your own extinction."
Grissom's eyes narrow at him, "And what delusion of yours gives you the right to rule over us, the Sith, the greatest species in the galaxy? Your might? Hardly. All of these ships and you can't even destroy one single Terminus Destroyer that you've ambushed. Pathetic."
"Turians have been spacefaring for over two millennia, yours is an upstart race of primitives. We have the most powerful fleet in the galaxy, entrusted to keep order in Citadel space. We will not be talked down to by a race that has yet to master mass effect technology. If we did not find you, you'd have destroyed yourselves in your hubris before the turn of the century. You should be grateful that we offered you a chance to survive under our care. You are no match for the…"
Cicerus grabs hold of his neck and gasps for air as Grissom's outstretched hand flexes in a constricting gesture, "I've heard enough of your pretensions. Know this, alien, you have made an enemy of the Dark Side's chosen people. When your worlds burn, when your fleets lay in shambles, and when your people are marched through the streets in chains; remember that it was you who fired upon us. Pray to whatever fictitious gods you worship, it matters not, you will know the true power of the Dark Side of the Force. You will know the revenge of the Sith!"
As Grissom shouts, three more Sith destroyers emerge from hyperspace behind the damaged Scarlet Fang. The hologram cuts off as the ships rain turbolaser fire upon the turian warships. The frigate closest to the fray explodes as the new vessels close in on them, their fire becoming more accurate as they do.
"I-" the captain takes a wheezy breath, "-I thought you said they had no Element Zero?!" Cicerus rages, free of the Force choke.
"They don't, it's as if these ships dropped into reality, we couldn't detect them until they appeared," the sensor operator says.
"Captain, our frigates are getting shredded, we've lost two ships already," another officer interjects.
Cicerus' mandibles grind together as he messuages his throat, "Withdraw our forces, we're outgunned. Take us back through the relay and link up with Admiral Septemus' fleet, he needs to be warned about their capabilities."
"Sir?"
"That's an order!"
The message is spread to the remaining ships and the turian vessels turn and flee from the Sith. They fly back through the relay as another of their frigates and even a cruiser falls to turbolaser fire. Captain Stolas breathes a sigh of relief as his ship is encircled by its allies.
"Sir, we're being haled," the comms officer speaks up.
"Put them through," he replies.
The holo-comm lights up and another ranked officer appears before them, "Captain Stolas, Lord Grissom, I am relieved that we've made it in time. I am Captain Irons of the Shanxi patrol."
"Well met, Captain," Lord Grissom responds, "You've come at just the right time. Without your timely intervention, we may have been blasted into oblivion."
"Still, we lost the activation team's ship and the aliens got away," Irons says, "I'm sorry we couldn't do more."
"We must return to Shanxi at once," Stolas replies, "If what the alien said is true, there are more of them out there and they seem to think we will be easy prey for their military. They will be back, likely with an invasion force to take the planet."
"They can try, but we will not make it easy for them," Lord Grissom growls.
So, that's chapter 1, the opening skirmish that kicks off the First Contact War. The turians are in for a nasty surprise when they realize what they're dealing with, the rest of the council too for that matter, but that comes later. As a side note, Shepard, the one we know, won't be the focal point for some time in this story, I plan on doing most major events of the Mass Effect timeline as their own fics. This one will probably only be around ten to twelve chapters and cover the first contact war and the immediate aftermath. Events will differ massively from canon the further it gets but we will still get the reaper war in all its entirety, just with some twists. If you like the start, please leave a comment, review, or critique. I really appreciate the feedback. I'm trying to get back into writing and y'all's comments mean a lot in that regard.
See y'all next time.