"Right this way." He clicks a bone-lever into place and a few other mechanisms snap to a halt. He goes back out to the hall, opens a wooden door to open air (the ship is moving downright sedately by modern standards, the wind can't be more than twenty miles an hour), ties a knot to his belt in a well-practiced motion, and starts climbing up ridges that form a ladder built into the (stone?) hull.
Cam doesn't climb; he just leans out into the air and catches wind and flaps up.
The ship is roughly pill-shaped. The greenhouse takes up much of the topside's space, but a large section of the front is free of glass, rope mountings, and the other miscellaneous adornments that dot the ship.
"I could drill a hole through the ship for wires. Electricity needs wires, I think. Hull of this ship is the same stuff the core of big islands are made of by the way. Floatstone. Mostly hydrogen, neutrally buoyant at 150 kilometers or so."
"I can do wireless electricity. And you don't need to drill anything, I can stick it in a case that attaches like it grew there. Any requests before I make it?"
"Well, they're not written in a dialect you'll decipher easily or designed for your level of context, but you could get somewhere with them, I suppose."
"I might skip making a giant island and being a trading hub and just see about replacing the stargate."
"Probably? It depends on what's wrong with the ground and how seismically active it is."
"Earthquakes, volcanoes, continental drift. I can maybe just confine all the sulfur in something; the heat it matters why it's hot. I assume no one will miss anything about the ground as-is?"
"So I'll go down and check that out and maybe just make a shell for the whole thing."