They call themselves the "space family," the tens of thousands of people, from grocery-store owners to engineers, whose lives are inextricably linked to NASA.
Thousands made the pilgrimage to the Johnson Space Center front gate yesterday, to drop wreaths of flowers, plastic angels and offer prayers for seven dead astronauts -- and that the space program will not stall yet again.
"That's what happened after we lost the Challenger shuttle 17 years ago," said Don Gay, an off-duty policeman who visited the overnight shrine, last seen when the shuttle Challenger blew up shortly after its launch.
"Lots of people were laid off after the Challenger when they grounded the shuttles. It put a damper on all of Houston. It's not just NASA that's hurt; it's everyone who [is]associated with NASA, and that's a lot of people here. That's our fear now, that it's going to happen again."
When the $2-billion (U.S.) Challenger exploded on Jan. 28, 1986, shortly after it left the launch pad at Cape Canaveral, the space-shuttle program was halted for 32 months as investigations were carried out.
Investigators discovered that senior NASA officials were suppressing safety warnings, a revelation that prompted a massive shakeup and $2-billion worth of improved safety measures for the remaining shuttles.
Yesterday, those who visited the shrine outside the Space Center, where vintage rockets point to the sky, said they don't want such a hiatus this time.
And, most important, no doubts were expressed about the utility of manned space flight, the bread and butter of the U.S. space program.
"This is not a step back," said Alan Weible, a welder who fought back tears as he explained that he had worked to put the shuttles back in the sky after the Challenger was lost.
"We hoped we would never have to go through this again. But it's just a step aside. They'll build another one."
It was a common and not surprising sentiment around the Johnson Space Center, known as Space City. Here, NASA is not just an employer; it is the source of dreams that stretch back to the space race four decades ago.
People here have named their streets Space Center Boulevard and Nasa Road One.
They take rides in Space City Limo. The McDonalds restaurant displays a five-metre model of an astronaut clutching an order of French fries during a space walk.
"We're not going to spend a long period of time in accusations," said Texas Representative Sheila Jackson Lee, a member of the congressional science, space and aeronautics committee.
"It's important to move forward into solutions. We have a commitment in this community, and in this nation, to space and manned space flight," she said.
As mourners filed into Grace Community Church, where Columbia's mission commander Rick Husband once sang in the choir, church officials were preparing people for the grief they expect will ripple through many homes in the close-knit NASA community.
"We live in the area of NASA and will be impacted as the emotional shock wave goes through our community," wrote Paul Louis Pop, one of the church's counsellors. "We have lost our ability to trust in chariots."
The disaster has also reminded the residents of Space City that, effortless as shuttle flights now seem, space travel always has a human cost.
In his book The Right Stuff, Tom Wolfe described the risks of being an astronaut as akin to strapping a man on a giant Roman candle and lighting it.
Before the space-shuttle program, three astronauts -- the crew of Apollo 1, who died Jan. 27, 1967, in a launch-pad fire in their capsule during training -- were killed on the job.
But from 1986 to 2003, two shuttle disasters have killed 14 people who were flying in a craft with far more advanced technology.
"Yes, this reminds us this is dangerous," said Libby Revis, who carried her Bible into Grace Church to pray for the shuttle crew with the congregation, many of whom wept quietly in their pews.
"But the astronauts knew the risks. We now know the risks, and remember they sacrificed for us. It's a great loss, but manned space flight shouldn't be abandoned. It's part of what we do."
Despite the insistence that the shuttles will soon fly again, fear still lingers in Space City.
"I don't want to be an astronaut any more," said nine-year-old Tommy Green, standing behind a photograph of the dead astronauts, inscribed with the message, Next Stop Heaven.
"I'm afraid to be an astronaut."