We were discussing Avon's skills on a B7 mailing list, and agreed that that he had a surprising knowledge of spaceships for an earth-bound computer tech and embezzler. Gina said, "As for spaceship trivia, isn't that like car trivia? Or possibly train spotting?" I couldn't resist.
After the battle, Avon pulled his spaceship-spotter's handbook out of his anorak pocket and quickly noted down the details and plate numbers of the pursuit ships they had just encountered. He smiled with satisfaction. Two of those were mark nines, and one was—or had been, more accurately—a vintage mark four, and it wasn't often you came across one of those. A pity Vila had to neutron-blast the thing; those older models were the last of an era, but it had been whole and in working order when he had first spotted it on Zen's screen, and that was what counted.
He was doing very well. He even had Servalan's flagship, plus two battleships, one of which had a different porthole configuration from the manufacturer's standard, a cruiser he couldn't really count as he didn't get its plate number, a lot of Andromedan warships with their alien markings, and, admittedly, a depressing number of rust-bucket Wanderer classes. These were the ship-spotters' standby, but he might break the Guinness Bookpad of Records if he topped 354.
He sighed, thinking of the one that got away.
"You're a sad man, Avon," Vila said.
"Yes, I am," said Avon, wistfully thinking of the 700-year-old infra-luminal original-model Wanderer class he had never got to see back at Fosforon. It was probably the last one in existence, and off-limits now, with that plague. He sighed again. He would have been the star at the next Ship-Spotters' Con.
Vila knew what he was thinking. For about the twentieth time, he said, "You could always get its plate number off Orac, you know."
"No," said Avon. "It wouldn't be the same."
The end