For a scenic browse, and an answer-page to Guess The World:
When Colin Sherrard opened his eyes after the crash, he could not imagine where he was. He seemed to be lying, trapped, in some sort of vehicle, on the summit of a rounded hill, which sloped steeply away in all directions. Its surface was seared and blackened, as if a great fire had swept over it. Above him was a jet-black sky, crowded with stars; one of them hung like a tiny, brilliant sun low down on the horizon.
Could it be the sun? Was he so far from Earth? No - that was impossible. Some nagging memory told him that the sun was very close - hideously close - not so distant so distant that it had shrunk to a star. And with that thought, full consciousness returned. Sherrard knew exactly where he was, and the knowledge was so terrible that he almost fainted again...
Arthur C Clarke, Summertime on Icarus (Vogue, June 1960)